Today is my birthday, and I’m spending it with my mother at her farm in Chambersville, Texas. Last night my two brothers and my daughter gathered with us for a great birthday feast which included my brother Austin’s fabulous pasta and home made bread and of course my mother’s chocolate pie. It was a lovely evening.

One of my morning devotions today included a prayer from Amma Mary of Egypt, one of the desert mothers:
“Now therefore, lead me wherever you please; lead me to salvation, teach me what is true, and go before me in the desert.”

A great prayer to begin another year.

It’s Saturday afternoon and my brother has gone off to find a holy site, and I’ve decided to spend these nearly last moments in the Holy Land back one final time at the Western Wall (that small bit of wall remaining from the Temple Mount from when the Temple was destroyed in the first century, also called “the wailing wall”). I’m on the woman’s side, of course.

I came last Sunday and prayed, and today wanted to spend time with women of all nations and ages and faiths in prayer. In a few moments I’ll walk towards the wall to pray–for those so very many dear to me that I have carried in my heart on this long, mostly hot, mostly challenging, mostly inspiring, pilgrim’s walk.

…….. And as I was writing these words a woman all in white came up to me and said with authority, “No phone! Shabbat!”. I quickly showed her that I wasn’t talking; I was writing. She even more quickly replied, “No writing! Shabbat!”

Horrified that I had offended my hosts, I decided that I have something more to learn about keeping Sabbath. I stopped all my busyness and did the one thing that is always allowed–I prayed.

As I finish writing this, I am nearly packed for our 6.30 AM airport shuffle.
The French doors of my tiny room at Christ Church Guest House inside the Old City Walls are open to the symphony of Jerusalem sounds that never stop. I’m glad to be going home but there is much that I’ll miss in this strange and holy place.

(Found out later that photography is forbidden, too. Oh well. Here’s my photo anyway.)

I’m on the final piece of my three weeks in the Holy Land. I’ve seen amazing places and reading the Bible will never be the same again. Today we traveled from Nazareth to Ein Kerem and the Church of the Visitation (Luke 1. 26–56). Tomorrow we leave first thing for Bethlehem.

Yesterday my brother and I drove
north and were within easy walking distance of Syria and Lebanon. On my trip south I’d been as close to Egypt and Saudi Arabia. I could clearly see all four countries, but was unable to enter them either because of passport or safety issues.

In the south of Jordan and Israel we saw “camel crossing” signs–and we did indeed see camels frequently. In northeast Israel we saw “tank crossing” signs and “danger–land mine” warnings. Tonight when my brother and I walked to the Holy Sepulchre, an armed soldier stood outside the door. As we have driven away from many communities, the word “peace” in three languages has been written on signs bidding us farewell.

Such is this wildly beautiful place where the Prince of Peace chose to show through his very life what peace that passes understanding looks like in the flesh.

From Psalm 122

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:
‘May they prosper who love you. Peace be within your walls,
and security within your towers.’
For the sake of my relatives and friends
I will say, ‘Peace be within you.’

Our deacon at St. Mary’s emailed me that a dear parishioner had died.

Bill Meisner was a kind and faithful man. A year ago he celebrated his 80th birthday with a wonderful party which included the blessing of the antique red truck he had lovingly and carefully restored and Holy Communion, too.
It was a joy filled evening. The note he wrote to me after the event is one I will always treasure.

When I return to St. Mary’s Epiphany, Bill’s spot at the end of the second or third row for the early Eucharist will have an empty spot that only he could fill. I will miss him.

At the Church of the Loaves and Fishes in Tabgha (Matthew 14. 13-21),
I lit a candle in memory of Bill with prayers for all who loved him, most especially his wife, Sally.