<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body dir="auto"><div dir="ltr"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div dir="ltr"></div><div dir="ltr">Thank you Fr. Paul! Your beautiful reflection on the stars being hidden by the fog reminded me of a story I heard a long time ago about an oblate priest working in northern Canada. I am including it below… I have used this story many times with visiting groups of Canadian high school students. A very blessed and happy Christmas to you and to the entire Spiritan Community… and to all who find a spiritual home in the Sunday Community as well!</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Dean. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">René Fumoleau served first as an Oblata priest (and eventually incardinated into the Diocese of Mackenzie) in Northern Canada where he lived for more than sixty years. Fumoleau was also a poet and published a collection of his works reflecting on all he had learned during his time among the Dene people.</div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Truck lights.</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">Winter time and very cold,</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">early afternoon but already dark.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">I’m driving from Yellowknife to Fort Rae in my 15 year old pick-up truck,</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">and a Dene elder asked me for a ride.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">The land has taught the Dene</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">to live in a world of silence.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">After ten kilometres, Kolchia reflects:</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">“Driving the truck is like having faith in God.”</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">I’m trying to figure out what he means, but, after two kilometres I give up:</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">“Grandpa, you talked about driving and faith in God.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">I’m not sure what you meant.”</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">Kolchia turned slightly towards me:</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">“You started the engine and you put the lights on. We could have said:</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">‘We see only one hundred metres ahead.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">Further on, it’s one hundred kilometres of darkness, so we cannot go to Fort Rae.’</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">But you got the truck in gear,</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">we started to move,</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">and the lights kept showing ahead of us.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">Must be the way with God too</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">who shows us only a bit of the future,</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">just enough for our next move.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">If we are afraid and if we stand still,</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">we’ll never see further ahead.</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">But if we go with the little light we have,</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">the light keeps showing us the way on and on.”</div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr"><br></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" dir="ltr">“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” …</div></div></div></div></div><div dir="ltr"><br>On Dec 24, 2023, at 11:49 PM, Paul M via Sundaycommunity <sundaycommunity@lists.integralshift.ca> wrote:<br><br></div><div dir="ltr">I just went outside briefly and can’t see any stars at all because the fog moved into my backyard. It is so still And beautiful. I thought it was a little metaphor for life, we want so much to see stars, but the fog is hiding them, and yet we know they’re there. Even in the fog of life, we can trust God is there. </div></div></body></html>