Sunday, February 1, 2009


Tomorrow is Groundhog Day, the day where tradition has it that we find out if this long winter will end or be with us for another six weeks. Several months ago our friend Lincoln told me that Groundhog Day would be when everything would finally come together for us.

"Mark my words," he said. But I forgot.

He reminded me last Thursday, "Groundhog Day," he said.

I wondered if it was a good omen on Friday when the very first thing I saw was a ladybug. I opened my eyes and thought, "What's that black spot on the door?" and then it started moving.

The new people who looked at the house yesterday came back for a second time today. As they looked, we went to walk on the beach. On our first glimpse of the ocean, we saw dozens of dolphins slowly, methodically cresting as they swam south.

All along our path on the beach, we saw feathers at the high water mark, scattered amongst shells and bits of wood. Could that be a sign?

Lincoln has a tattoo on the back of his head, a feather.

It doesn't really matter so much if tomorrow is the end of winter or if we wait six more weeks or six more months. Each day we learn one thing more about watchfulness, about our own high water mark of patience and about, not signs, but faith scattered amongst shells and bits of wood.

ladybug ladybug fly away home
your house is on fire and the children are gone

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