This season reminds us that Jesus, the Son of God, knows our broken hearts, has felt the warmth of our tears, the exhaustion in our bones, the hunger in our belly, the loneliness in crowded room. He healed broken bodies, and he will heal our broken spirits.

You are not required to do any more than you can right now. Only remember that you are dearly loved and that your life matters.

I’ve never been good at waiting. When I was a child I would crawl beneath the Christmas tree branches and shake the presents to see if I could guess the contents, because I did not want to wait until Christmas day.

Thanksgiving is meant to be family gathering, especially when our families are far flung, and our meetings intermittent, or annual at best. But too often, what was meant to be a joyful, becomes a rehashing of old grievances, political, religious, or mis-remembered childhood events.

What I learned this week is that in addition to giving ​thanks, we can give grace.

Giving grace means knowing your brother has a gift for speaking with strangers, that's how he's grown his successful business. Instead of being impatient while waiting, I'll grab my knitting and get to work on the heel of a sock I've been putting off because it's a tedious knit.

Getting established and making new friends is something I am very familiar with. Why did I think it should be any different this time, is it because I am older?

The irony of course, is that as we get older it is almost certain that we will have to move to a place where we may not know anyone, leaving behind our community to start all over again where we are strangers, even if it is on the happy occasion of our retirement.

Allow me to provide some examples on what has made this latest move not only possible but for the most part, a good adventure.

All Souls Day is a way to honor our loved ones and I know we are meant to remember that they are now in the joyful embrace of God and enjoying a heaven that is more beautiful than our limited imaginations can conceive.

Death is a new beginning for them as well as us, and because we are human, I hope we will also give ourselves space and time to jealously admit that we still wish they were here with us now.

I do understand the frustration of unanswered prayers and unanswered questions of faith and church hierarchies that feel exclusionary to at least half the population.

In the past when I read of yet another sexual abuse scandal by a pastor or a priest using the authority of their position to prey on young people, my anger would compel me to want to leave the Church.

In the past I considered these options, myself. But in the end, I chose to become a contrarian in uncertain times.

I love God too much to turn my back on him. I cannot imagine what a mess my life would be without God at the center of it. To borrow a phrase, without God my center would not hold.

Our grief may make us feel like turning inward — to replay our favorite moments with our beloved over and over again. But we must not allow ourselves to be completely cut off from the exterior world, because that is where our future lives. So, as we move through our grief, we must do so while performing this delicate dance of caring for our broken heart, realizing that part of caring for our beloved’s memory involves moving out into the world. Little by little.

I strongly believe that my walk of faith should not be yours, nor yours mine. An authentic walk of faith is a private matter between you and God and one which you must choose to pursue or not to pursue, each day.

What should we do as we face a new chapter in life? For me it was turning 60 and losing my mother. This episode begins the quest of considering how I will live the final third of my life.

Like blinders on a horse, I seat myself at the front of the church so I can mind my own business.

How often do I make erroneous assumptions about the prayers of those around me? I see someone who appears to be financially well off in the pew to my left and think they have not a care in the world, not realizing that they are praying for a child who hasn’t spoken to them in years.

I see a family who is blessed not with financial wealth but with the wealth of having six children, and I wonder how they can adequately provide for so many, not realizing that they thank God every day for his abundant provision.

I watch the way others take Communion, if they lift their arms during the Our Father prayer, or if they slip out before the service ends.