Fridays with Froehlichs #12

It’s been a minute. We have found it challenging to find our rhythm since we returned from ABQ, but writing another edition of Fridays with Froehlichs helps us hear the melody and hum the harmony.

Fall here in Ithaca, and probably most of New England, has been muted. Mostly dusty yellows with infrequent blazes of red and orange. Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful. But maybe because I’m spoiled and jaded, I was ready to be impressed. Wow’d. There is a long bank of tall oaks and maples behind our house. Every year they have given us a magnificent tapestry of magenta, crimson, persimmon, tangerine, gold, and amber. This year, not so much.

While I was waiting for the colors to work their magic, I read a short piece in the NY Times by Emma Goldberg on awe. One of her ideas is that we actively can cultivate awe. That was a check to my passive expectations.

Awe is about immensity and immovability. Being small in the presence of something large and solid. Of course, there are moments when something in life gob-smacks us, something that brings us to a halt as our jaws hit the ground. It’s fun when that happens. But as Goldberg suggests, we can intentionally put ourselves in places in which we experience awe.

Worship is one such space. In the parable of The Wind and the Willows, Kenneth Grahame allows us to see through the eyes of Rat and Mole as they meet Pan and what it may be like to know awe in God’s presence.

"This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me," whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. "Here, in this holy place, here if anywhere, surely we shall find Him"

Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror--indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy--but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend, and saw him at his side, cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew.

Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fulness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humorously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.

"Rat!" he found breath to whisper, shaking. "Are you afraid?"

"Afraid?" murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love.

"Afraid! Of _Him_? O, never, never! And yet – and yet – O, Mole, I am afraid!"

Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship.

Sheryl and I love this place we call home. The area in and around Ithaca boasts hundreds of waterfalls. When we stand at the foot of a cascading cataract, water crashing down upon the rocks, the spray spattering our faces, the deafening roar, the ground trembling, we are in awe. We are in the presence of tremendous power that has shaped and sculpted the stone over long ages. In the thrall of beauty we feel small and insignificant.

There is also the wonder we feel when life becomes precious. Dear friends visited for the Chesterton House 25^th anniversary gala. There were newborn sounds in the house – giggly squeals of delight as well as cries and wails that try to fight off sleep. This tiny one has amazing power over us in part because his life is so fragile. We hold him with wonder and awe. As Sheryl’s mom is likely on the final leg of her journey, we face the inevitability of death. Its specter looms large in our lives, an unstoppable force. While we have good reason not to fear it, its immensity in life and history makes us feel helpless. Again, in the mystery of birth and death we are in awe.

Awe may also be found in sorrow. In Irish, sadness "comes upon me" (tá brón orn) a wave that sweeps over me and carries me. I do not like it's power over me, but I do not have the strength or cleverness to resist it. Railing and flailing do not defeat it. Drowning and hiding diminish only me. So, I sit with this enormous enveloping presence waiting and listening as the tears fall. 

We choose to linger intentionally in these moments. We do not run away. In the wonder of our weakness, in the tininess of our insignificance, we are held by One greater still. As the disciples said with awe, “Who is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!” (Mt 8:27). "Who is this who even forgives sins?" (Lk 7:49). Indeed, “the LORD has done amazing things for us! What joy!” (Ps. 126:3)

To put ourselves in the place of awe is to remember with gratitude. Much of what we share here in Fridays with Froehlichs is remembering, a rehearsing of grace – life that cannot be explained apart from God’s mercy.

Walking with God
Walking as a Spiritual Discipline

Van Gogh, "Couple Walking in Rows of Trees" (1890)

“Hurry is the enemy of attentiveness. And so love as attentiveness is listening and caring and noticing, cherishing, savoring, being awestruck, these things that we feel in a relationship. I am deeply loved by this person because they notice me. I think that that’s how God’s built it. And we can’t get that if we’re moving too fast, if we’re in a hurry."

A Trinity Forum conversation with Mark Buchanan

"I am making everything new!
Write this down,
for what I tell you
is trustworthy and true."

Jesus
Rev. 21:5

I (Steve) have been charmed by the long-running British series I’ve recently discovered, The Repair Shop. Everyday people bring their broken treasures and heirlooms to this group of extraordinary artisans. To name a few: Will is a master carpenter and furniture restorer. Steven makes clocks and mechanical toys tick, tock, and whir again. Amanda and Julie, known as the "Bear Ladies," specialize in bringing soft toys and dolls back to life. Suzie is a master saddler who delights in making hardened leather supple again. Lucia specializes in the conservation of paintings.

I am in awe of their skill. That alone captures my imagination. But the greater wonder is how redemption is modeled in the exchanges which happen in The Repair Shop. First, the artists take immense joy in using their skills to restore the precious items entrusted to their care. There is a selflessness in the restoration – their creativity is for the people who look to them with hope. They handle the teddy bears, clocks, portraits, vases, chests, and more with a mixture of tenderness and confidence.

Second, the people who have come to The Repair Shop receive back their restored treasures with deeply moving humility and amazement. This vase made whole was a wedding gift to one’s parents. This violin survived Auschwitz. This chest once held a grandmother’s life possessions as she boarded a ship bravely fleeing her homeland in pursuit of safety and a better future. Frequently, the people viewing the unveiled restoration, weep. They break their stunned silence by asking, “May I touch it.” The artisan replies kindly, “Of course, it is yours.”

Is this not a picture of God’s love for us in taking the broken pieces of our lives and making us whole again in Christ. But am I humble, grateful, in awe at his grace?

But there is one more redemptive feature in these restorations. Each treasure has a story. The chest comes with nicks and scratches from its journey across the ocean. The teddy bear has worn spots from years of love and comfort. The artisans are careful to preserve this story. The restoration does not hide the history. Here again is the wonder – Jesus’s resurrection is the promise that God is making all things new in bodies and lives that have a story. As Bunyan's Mr. Valiant-for-Truth says as he pauses at the River, "My marks and scars I carry with me." Even Jesus’s body has scars, "wounds yet visible above" that tell the greatest of all stories. And the promise of scripture is that in the end, God gives the broken world back to us, whole and complete forever, a home he inhabits with us with eternal joy.

This past weekend we celebrated the 25th anniversary of the founding of Chesterton House.We have been invested in this good work since its beginning, and we have watched it grow up beyond our wildest imaginings. Many of our NLPC alums whose lives have been shaped by CH came back to mark the occasion, and it was lovely to see them again and hear stories of how they are flourishing in their lives and labors. Andy Crouch gave the featured address, and we were reminded again of why we value his voice in the Church today.

Look & See
Wendell Berry

Look & See: the trailer

Holy Presence

Eugene Peterson’s unrelenting attentiveness to God and to the pastoral practice of holy presence didn’t mean he lived in a stifled, cerebral world. Just the opposite. Peterson used the word imagination a lot – and imagination did not mean fancifully envisioning a world one hoped could exist but really didn’t. Rather, imagination embodies the Spirit-infused capacity to see the world as it truly is: God’s world, a world bursting with redemption and goodness and ultimate wholeness, even if for the moment we’ve committed ourselves to the shadows, delusions, and trivial narratives. To have a spiritual imagination is to have eyes to see God’s world for what it truly is: the ground where God fills the whole earth with his glory. When God fills the world, we discover every conversation and vocation and human endeavor to be a burning bush. Holiness everywhere. God everywhere.

For Peterson, seeing God as the burning center of life meant that Christian faith was not abstract or disembodied but integrated, personal, relational. “Spiritual theology means that everything in the Scripture can be lived,” he said. This is why Peterson’s gardening and carpentry and birdwatching and Shostakovich’s compositions and Levertov’s poetry and Stegner’s novels were intertwined with prayer. Whenever someone asked  Peterson how to pray (one of the most important questions a pastor could receive, he believed), he’d ask: “What do you love? Where do you feel most truly yourself?”

In July we spent a week of vacation cycling the P'tit Train do Nord, a 200km rail-trail north of  Montréal. First, we arrived in Montréal and enjoyed the hospitality of Jean & Daryl who have been serving fruitfully and faithfully in Quebec for over 30 years - Jean has been a wise, patient, and encouraging colleague. They introduced us to Rue Wellington, "the coolest street in the world." In the world! Really. Then we joined up with Jonathan & Donna our dear friends from college for a splendid week of pedaling along lakes and rivers, pausing each evening at quaint inns along the way. All the old rail depots have been preserved as cafes, art galleries, and bike shops. We ended the ride back in Montréal to celebrate Jonathan & Donna's 45th wedding anniversary. 

Reslilience

There’s been a lot going on behind the scenes in our family for months and months now.  It is not the time for me to share details except to confess that living with chronic uncertainty about the future well-being of loved ones is a sadness, a heart-breaking constant that creeps into the cracks and crevices of one’s every waking moment.  One of  Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Poetry Unbound postings, "A Poem to Breathe With," begins with a Lansgton Hughes poem which speaks to me in the moment:

I feel a deadness in this liminal space; many days I am ‘just carrying on,’ stuck in the drudgery of  this chapter of the story.  I long for increased appetency (a new word introduced to me by Winn Collier in his short piece posted September 9, 2025, “The Desire for Desire.”)   Collier notes that “we need more help naming those weary seasons where we're keeping our head up, best we can, but we can't muster the good vibes, can't get the kindling to spark. We're not surrendering, but we also won't fake it. We don't feel the desire, but we’re sure hoping it'll circle back. We don’t have unwavering confidence things will shift, but we're still putting all our chips on the possibility.”

Living with flagging desire can diminish imagination.  Amidst the stasis of desire I can pray and persist in paying attention, delighting in small glimmers.

xxxxx“This is my Father’s world.   
xxxxxAnd to my list’ning ears 
xxxxxAll nature sings, and round me rings 
xxxxxThe music of the spheres. 
xxxxxThis is my Father’s world: 
xxxxxI rest me in the thought 
xxxxxOf rocks and trees, of skies and seas -
xxxxxHis hand the wonders wrought.”

J. R. R.  Tolkein’s short story “Leaf by Niggle” speaks to the power of paying attention:

“Niggle's Picture!" said Parish in astonishment. "Did you think of all this, Niggle? I never knew you were so clever. Why didn't you tell me?" 

"He tried to tell you long ago," said the man; "but you would not look. He had only got canvas and paint in those days, and you wanted to mend your roof with them. This is what you and your wife used to call Niggle's Nonsense, or That Daubing." 

"But it did not look like this then, not real," said Parish. 

"No, it was only a glimpse then," said the man; "but you might have caught the glimpse, if you had ever thought it worth while to try." 

from the Eugene Peterson Center for Christian Imagination

Personal Updates

Medical: Sheryl has had a wild ride since our last Fridays with Froehlichs. She contracted Lyme. Even though, thankfully, she caught it early, she still experienced joint pain and other symptoms. Then, she got poison ivy, again. She has a very low tolerance for this infection, and it always hits her hard. The first round of Prednisone almost knocked it out, but then it came roaring back for a second round worse than the first. The doc upped the dosage which worked, but jangled her nerves so much she couldn't sleep for two weeks. Her migraines remain under control. Thanks be to God. This past year she was diagnosed with Sjögren’s autoimmune disease. The most significant presenting symptom is excessive dryness (eyes, mouth, skin). The doc gave her a tear-production test, and she flunked. She has to be hyper-attentive to moisture maintenance, but we're grateful that the medications are proving to be effective.
XXXXXSteve: There's not much new to report. The neuropathy in his hands and feet continues to be a persistent and painful nuisance. His next CT scan is scheduled for November 17.
XXXXXThe Medical Assistance Fund set up by NY State Presbytery in 2021 to cover cancer-related expenses (prescriptions, CT scans, respiratory and neuropathy related supplies, etc) has been exhausted this month. It's been an extraordinary provision. Thanks be to God. We'll be meeting with our Medicare navigator this week to discuss coverage for next year. We already know that co-pays for CT scans will double and specialist co-pays will increase significantly. We project Sheryl's migraine injections to be $2,000 in 2026; her Sjögren’s meds, $4,000. If it's on your heart to assist us with medical expenses, please visit the Grace Unscripted Support page for tax-deductible giving options.

Family: We've moved Sheryl's mom, Naomi, to memory care. Her dementia is progressing, although a meaningful amount of her recall is in tact - she still recognizes most friends and family. She has fallen numerous times even under the watchful care of the staff. The doctors believe her condition is quite fragile and that she will not survive another serious infection. We're grateful for the kind care she is receiving and for the attentiveness of her local friends and church community.
XXXXXSteve continues to enjoy serving as interim pastor at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Rock Tavern, NY. He's there 3 Sundays each month. He completed a sermon series on 1 Cor 13 and is now in a series on the Seven Deadly Sins. He's taking the adults and senior high students through a study of The Pilgrim's Progress, one of his long-time favorites. He had the privilege of baptizing a West Point cadet a few weeks ago.

Good Stuff

Beethoven Blues, Jon Batiste

Peace to All Who Enter Here, Vol. 2, Josh Garrels

This Is Not the End, The Grey Havens

 Table Songs, Porter's Gate

A Trinity Forum Conversation
"How Did We Get Here? A Crisis of Solidarity"
Prof. James Davison Hunter & Gov. Bill Haslam

From the Trinity Forum introduction: "For most of US history, the tensions between an abstract commitment to justice and flourishing and a political reality that so often fell far short were held within a shared sense of unity and solidarity around the ideals of the American experiment. Why is this now unraveling, creating the civic conflict, disorientation, and exhaustion we see today? What part has faith played in our historical solidarity — what part can it play in recovering what we've lost? In partnership with Montgomery Bell Academy and St. Paul Christian Academy, the Trinity Forum held an Evening Conversation with UVA professor James Davison Hunter and former governor of TN Bill Haslam to help us understand this story. Dr. Hunter is the author of the new book Democracy and Solidarity: On the Cultural Roots of America’s Political Crisis and Gov. Haslam is the author of Faithful Presence: The Promise and Peril of Faith in the Public Square."  The Tennessean’s report of the Conversation provides a detailed summary. Executive Director of the Trinity Forum opens the conversation with the question: "How do we learn to live well with others, particularly those with whom we disagree?"

“O LORD, You are my God.
I will exalt You, I will give thanks to Your name.
You have worked wonders,
plans formed long ago, with perfect faithfulness.”

Isaiah 25:1

Website Updates

Grace Unscripted is now on Substack. Fridays with Froehlichs will be posted there as well as here via email. We're trying out this platform to see if it's a good fit for hosting our more personal writing. Sign up - the subscription is free, and you'll get a notice whenever we post anything new.

If you are new to Fridays with Froehlichs, you can catch up on previous editions at the Fridays with Froehlichs page.

Work on the Holy Callings project has been on hold for quite a while primarily because of Steve's interim work.

Benediction

Now may the God who is from
everlasting to everlasting,
who has loved you with an everlasting love,
and who has given you everlasting life,
support you with the everlasting arms
in these days and all the days
until Jesus comes.
Amen

From Grace Be With You
by Dale Ralph Davis

Please take a few moments to browse the website
Grace Unscripted.

Please prayerfully consider supporting our work through Grace Unscripted.
Visit the Support page.

Thank you.