When I was down in Tennessee last week, one of our field trips was to Asheville, North Carolina.  We were climbing the mountain separating Tennessee and North Carolina, when my mom said, "That's where we met that wise gentleman, isn't it?"  And of course, we were off on a story I hadn't thought about in a long time.

Years ago, the trip to Asheville was pretty harrowing, a very steep and narrow road that earned me, the one with the most serious motion sickness, a front seat berth and that landed my mom, with an iron constitution, in the back.  The road back was even worse, because somehow going downhill was even more sickening.  Now that the road has been straightened and widened somewhat, the trip only takes about 45 minutes, but when I was young it took probably almost twice as long as that. 

Anyhow, my family made the trip at least once a summer, if only because the only way to the beaches of South Carolina took us up and over that mountain and back.  My parents and brother were on the way home from the beach, headed back from Asheville and my brother was driving.  (I must have been already out of college and working or else had a summer job that kept me in Tennessee.)  About half an hour from Johnson City (and another half an hour from home), the transmission went out.  Steve managed to wrestle our great beast of a Chevy to the side of the road, but there was no doubt that the car was well and truly done.  It was a Sunday night, about 6 o'clock, and traffic was sparse; garages and tow services were pretty much closed down.

After a few minutes of contemplating options (of which there were no good ones) and finally coming to the thought of sleeping in the car and walking for assistance in the morning (this was either before the day of cell phones altogether or before we had one), a truck came along, slowed, and then stopped.  It was, I am told, an old truck, with cobbled-together parts, clearly a working truck.  Inside was a big man, what I would have called a mountain man, and his son, a boy of maybe 12.

The man asked if Dad could use some help.  "Well," Dad said.  "I don't think there's much you could do.  I'm pretty sure it's the transmission."  The man asked where my folks lived and they told him Bluff City.  "How about I take your family home?  I know a garage in Johnson City that's open 24 hours; we can go back and they can tow the truck on home or wherever, and I'll drive you back on to Bluff City."  My dad at first refused, but after thinking about the options, he decided to say yes.  And he reached for his wallet.  "No, no," the man said.  "Don't be doing that."  "But," my dad said, "at least let me pay for your gasoline and your time."  The man refused.  

So they drove all the way to Bluff City, to my parents' house.  And then back to Johnson City, to the garage, where they waited until Dad got the tow and repair arranged.  Back to Bluff City with Dad.  By this time, it was after 9 p.m. and the man and his son had to go all the way back to North Carolina.  Again, Dad reached for his wallet.  "Please let me give you something."  "No!"  the man said.  "At least let me buy you and your boy an ice-cream.  I can tell you were on your way to church tonight.  I hate you missed it.  Let me buy y'all a custard."  The man looked Dad straight in the eye and said, "This was our church!  Please.  Don't steal our blessing." 

Dad told this story a number of times, and Mom, too, and my brother.  I have come almost to believe I was there.  The message is clear.  Helping someone who needs help is a blessing.  Not even expecting thanks is a blessing.  Generosity is a blessing.  And I've come to see that allowing someone to help is a blessing, too.  (And that has been the hardest for me to learn.)  Not demanding to pay for someone else's kindness is blessing.  That's what we do.  We help each other.  We serve, and do our jobs, and love, and put ourselves out there.  We give, and don't even expect people will know we have, and it's a blessing.

So in this season of being generous, I urge all of us to do just that.  Y'all are already doing that.  But in coming weeks, we will have opportunities to give and to serve and to be generous, and I hope we all will.  Not because we have to, but because it is a blessing.

Two years ago, C.S. Lewis won the award for most-beloved saint in the Anglican Communion (an honor selected by polls), so I'm just piling on when I say I love this Holy One.  C.S. Lewis was born in 1898, and as a young man served in the infantry in WWI.  He was raised an Anglican and was fairly religious (as he later reported) but after being badly injured, and slowly recovering (his father refused to visit him), he became an atheist.  But God, as C.S. Lewis described it, stalked him.  He came to God as a young man, largely influenced by the writer J.R.R. Tolkien.   

He slowly came back, but he described it later as a cat (God) stalking a mouse (Lewis).  He said that when he came back to God, it was difficult and that he struggled, though he does not describe it.  Lewis taught at both Cambridge and Oxford Colleges.  He became an apologist for our faith, writing books beloved to many of us.  He wrote such apologies as Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, and 

The Great Divorce.  Lewis wrote the seven beloved "Chronicles of Narnia."

When Lewis was in late old age, he started a correspondence with Joy Davidman, an American woman who had converted from Judaism in part because of his writing.  She came to him on an impulse, and they were the loves of their lives.  He wrote 

Surprised by Joy for her.  When she died of cancer after only four years of marriage, he wrote A Grief, Observed, under a faked name.  Lewis adopted Joy's sons from a previous marriage.  Because he was so sad after Joy's death and his grief so raw, he was afraid that this apologist of the faith whose faith was questioned would undermine the Church.  Little did he know. It is one of the great chronicles of what it is like to lose a beloved.

C.S. Lewis died on November 22, 1963.

• At the El Hogar Elementary School in Tegucigalpa, boys and girls ages 6-12 live in a caring environment through sixth grade.  They learn to respect and live with others and adapt to discipline and school.
• The boys can then choose to complete three years of high school and vocational training at El Hogar Technical Institute to become licensed carpenters, welders, or electricians.
• Alternatively, boys can choose to attend the El Hogar Agricultural School in Talanga for three years of high school and training in agriculture and animal care.
• Upon graduation from elementary school, the girls live in the nearby town of Santa Lucia and attend a school where they receive education and vocation training in areas of employment for young women in Honduras

When our boys were little, they loved Thomas the Tank Engine.   If you've ever spent hours reading to little guys about trains, you know that the only thing Thomas ever wanted was to be "a truly useful engine."  I think we all want to be useful.  But it is very easy to substitute "busy" for "useful."  Our three week Advent series will use written materials, spiritual practices, and scripture to help participants to be intentional, present, and useful rather than just busy during a season that many find stressful and far too busy. 

Our facilitator for the class is The Rev. Lisa Fagerstrom, a United Methodist Pastor who is director of Christian Formation and Discipleship at Wesley Memorial Church in Worcester and Minister of Program and Administration at Harvard-Epworth in Cambridge.  She is also a spiritual director.  We will meet on Wednesday evenings from 7-8:30 with some worship and quiet time built in.  The class meets on December 4, 11, and 18.  Please click here to sign up online; there is also a signup sheet on the bulletin board outside the sanctuary.

This time of the year, folks are looking at the people who might be called to serve in leadership positions at our church.  The nominating committee is beginning to think of individuals who might like to be vestry members or officers of the parish.  Do you feel called to be on our vestry?  Would you like to serve as a parish officer?  Do you know someone whom you think would be great?  Contact Rev. Scottie or any member of our nominating committee to give suggestions.  Your nominating committee is Linda Hank, Dave McDonald, Warren Poor, Ben Sands, and Norma Strack.

Our budget process is a transparent one.  We publish and approve the budget, first on the vestry and then at annual meeting.  Every line of what we do is public.  We are in the process of putting together a budget for next year.  Barbara Luddy takes a leadership role in putting together our budget, and we welcome your input.  

Christine Camper, Kevin Cellucci, Betty Fraser, Bernice Herrick, Thomas and Henrietta Kane, Debra Katt-Lloyd, Tony Lopes, Lynn McDonald, Rheta McKinley, Alice Norman, Ken Nowakunski, Elsie Saunders, Bishop Thomas Shaw, Kevin Smith, Jake Torrisi, Ralph Ventola, Stephen Wagner, and Michael Webb.