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Text Box: Minister’s Message (from Rev. Steve Willey)

Text Box: The loss of one of my five senses is something I quietly mourn every day. I am blessed, however, that Carol has agreed to be my olfactory tour guide through life. When we go for a walk, I can see the trees blossoming pink, and Carol describes their fragrance for me. We have been hunting for a house in recent weeks, and each time we go into a new basement I ask her to tell me if she smells any tell-tale signs of moisture or mildew. Whether its coffee being roasted, or the sweet, warm heat of a baby’s head, Carol reminds me of the smell and I recall it. She helps me to be grateful for something I am not able to directly experience for myself. It strikes me that this is a parable for the way we should support one another as members of the church. All of us go through times when we can’t pray, or when we aren’t sure we still have faith, or when God feels absent from our lives. When we can’t pray for ourselves, we rely upon those who still can pray to remind us of the joy and the power of this special connection with God. When our souls go

Text Box: With the return of Spring, I feel a renewal of gratitude. Nature discards the grey-flannel clouds of its waning winter and dons a Hawaiian shirt splashed with neon greens and pinks. Each morning we are wakened once again by the reveille of songbirds and, if you are as lucky as I am to live near an elementary school, three times every weekday the sometimes cheerless routine of being an adult is brightened by the sound of children rediscovering the joy of a short-sleeved romp in the sun. I open my window a little wider to the sound of their laughter. It is the music of gratitude. An audible sign of earth’s inward spiritual grace. A gift from God. A reminder to be thankful. I endured some sinus surgery four years ago that gave me relief from the pain of daily headaches. It was a “good news-bad news” experience. The good news was that the headaches were cured. The bad news was that I lost my sense of smell as a result of the operation. I will occasionally catch a fleeting whiff of an odour if it is strong enough, but I haven’t enjoyed the fragile perfume of a rose for a long time. When I bake bread, I now boast to Carol about how good it looks instead of boasting about how wonderful it smells.