What a wonderful difference outside this morning. A sun break that lasted for hours.

Clearly, we did have some wind and rain during the night. Guess I slept through it.

Looks like more than two inches of rain since yesterday morning.

And some branches did blow off the sweet gum in the front yard.

l walked both dogs separately and briskly for over an hour. Amazing what a little sunshine can do.

Saw a couple of new signs around the neighborhood

And this one at St. Paul’s. Not sure I get it. I think maybe it’s a quote from a recent sermon, but it seems out of context in the churchyard.

There are such different ways of loving. Just one English word, but four Greek ones that I know.

I feel compassion and heartbreak when I see the homeless camp on my way to run the dogs. I think that’s Agape. Charity or empathy.

Eros is sexual passion.

Philios describes authentic friendship.

Storge is unconditional family love.

I have experienced everyone of these.

This week, storge has been keeping me going as we supported and cared for each other as we said goodbye to Mother.

But I really do not think I agree with “no exceptions.” Some people — you can name the historical figures — should not be loved by any definition. There’s a watery saying that you can hate the behavior but not the behave-or. No. Some despots and molesters are exceptions in my book.

And then there is “like.” It’s actually possible to love people you don’t like. Strange but true.

Then there is the way we love cheesecake or kayaking. And there’s the way I loved this sunny Sunday. I don’t think the Greeks have a word for that.

Here’s the January picture on my new 2021 Yellowstone calendar. So gorgeous.

And the first of every month, I empty out Daddy’s rain gauge and start over. Looks like we’ve already had over half-an-inch.

I no longer buy the facts of the trek-to-Bethlehem story.

Seriously. How could any governmental agency in those days keep records to show that Joseph’s hometown was Bethlhem. And why would he have to load a very pregnant Mary on a donkey to accompany him? Bethlehem was certainly not her hometown and I doubt that women needed to be counted anyway.

So, the facts may be wrong, but the legend and the lessons are much truer than facts.

On Christmas morning, I drove the dogs across town to run in a field they love. On the way, I saw so many homeless people huddled under tarps or in tents. The largest group was under the noisy interstate overpass, trying to stay dry.

I thought it would be disrespectful to take pictures, so I downloaded this one.

I never give cash to needy people. I bought a bunch of coffee-kiosk-gift cards early in December. By Christmas day, they were all gone and I never had enough for the groups I saw that morning. I felt a little bit like an obnoxious Lady Bountiful handing them out anyway.

There are no easy answers to this disgraceful situation. I often think, “There but by the grace of God and a good divorce lawyer go I.”

And here I sit at 1880 with three unoccupied bedrooms. I know inviting homeless people to share my home is not the answer, but still, I feel guilty.

Where are wisemen bringing gifts?

Mother’s closest companion growing up was her “sister” Frances.

Due to a unique generational arrangement, Frances, who was a couple of years younger than Mother, was actually her aunt. I always called her Aunt Frances.

Mother had many wonderful memories of the fun and mischief the two of them got up to playing together as little girls. It was The Depression, so they didn’t have much, but they had a very rich childhood. They used to “pretend,” which they called “play-like,” which was pronounced “plike.”

“Let’s plike the porch swing is a train and we’re going on a trip.”

This little tea set that they shared was a very special possession. It sits in my dining room today.

I don’t actually believe things happen quite like this, but Mother did; so I “plike” Frances ran to meet Mother early in the morning on Christmas Eve.