It is a year of contemplating tables and as Christmas approaches I find myself reflecting on the tables of my youth, especially the tables at my grandmother’s house. Recently, I came across a card I wrote to my grandmother when I was maybe 6, the writing big and crooked, the spelling not quite on point, the message short: “School (spelled scool) is getting better. I am glad that we are going to your (spelled you’r) house for (turn over) Thanksgiving.” Since my grandmother’s death, we have found quite of few of her letters and several of them from me. I think my Grandma Brown was the person I told things to, the person I looked to for guidance on what it meant to be a grown up and after much reflections I am pretty sure she was one of the people in my life that seemed to get me. And I remember what it was like to be a child sitting at her table.

Recent publicity in the news media, outreach to schools and other agencies and a $10,000 grant from the Franke Foundation are helping the First Teen Clothes Closet touch the lives of more and more young people from our area.

December was an exciting month for the OWLs. Many of us traveled to Sugar Creek for an excellent program, meal and music. We followed that with a Christmas potluck full of great food and fun games. Dressed in our Christmas sweaters, everyone went home full of Christmas goodies with smiles on their faces.

I have been home but a few days and that land still lingers within my memory. That “Holy” Land. I lay in bed at night with my window open. The cool and freshness of the night air fills my room. I no longer hear the usual sounds of the night. The rubber meeting the road on the highway, the dog barking off in the distance, the whistle blow of the night train have all been replaced. I lay in my bed and remember the sights, sounds and the people of that place. I hear the call to prayer high on a mountain top and remember the people. I hear the church bells echoing off the thick, stone walls of the old city in Jerusalem and remember the people. I still smell the aroma of the market place in Nazareth and Bethlehem, remembering the people. I see the River Jordan where John baptized Jesus and remember the people. I see the clear water of the Sea of Galilee and remember the people. I hear the waves of the Mediterranean Sea and remember the people. I remember the sites we have seen, where Jesus was born and the rolling hills where the shepherds watched. The place where Mary lived and the angel came. I remember the ground that Jesus and the disciples walked and temptation by Satan occurred. I remember the place where Jesus was nailed to the cross as those who loved him were witness. I remember all of this and much more but still what I remember most are the people.

Anyone who has teens (or works with teens, or has even just driven past a high school or middle school lately) knows that no matter how cold it is, they avoid wearing winter coats. Instead, they want sweatshirts and hoodies—either pullover or zip-up.