Even though I can’t believe the number of columns I’ve written over these years with you, it seems there’s always something—or several things—to talk about. For instance, I remind you that in less than two weeks, we will be having a Presbytery meeting, so please don’t forget to register for that. Among other things, we will have the opportunity to hear from two gifted emerging leaders of the Presbytery, and I’m so grateful and happy for that.

And as I write this column, I hear of the first glimmers of hope that we are almost afraid to express, hope that is coming as the number of people being vaccinated goes up—and the number of people suffering from COVID goes down. The guidelines being issued to people who have been fully vaccinated sound a little confusing, and they remind me of Bruce Reyes-Chow and others anticipating the complexity of our new hybrid reality. We as a Presbytery have not yet given guidance on how to worship indoors—we’re not there yet; LA County is still in the highest tier of infection, and even those who have been fully vaccinated are told to still wear masks in public and avoid medium and large gatherings. The “reopening” will require much planning, and we will attempt to share guidance as we hear of it.

Perhaps it’s not as pressing for me, because I’m not yet eligible for the vaccine, so I don’t yet feel the freedom that others are feeling. We do tend to see the world through our own particular lenses, which is why diversity is so important—the more people from various backgrounds we have in leadership, the more views on God’s world we get. For better or for worse, right now you get me writing this column, from my particular perspective as a third-generation Japanese-American woman from a family that has long attempted to serve God’s mission of justice and peace.

So, for instance, I think I’ve mentioned that much of what I know about combating racism I learned as a child, from my parents. (A good reminder that children are watching and listening, even when they don’t seem to be.) I remember a TV news item during the Senate hearings on redress and reparations for Japanese-Americans who were displaced and incarcerated in camps during World War II. As politicians do, one Senator spoke hyperbolically about what he heard, saying “the internment camps were the worst injustice in the history of the United States.” My mother, who herself was sent to the Gila camp in Arizona, scoffed and said, “That’s ridiculous. What we went through was nothing compared to what was done to Blacks.”

This is a good illustration of the term BIPOC. The term refers to Black, Indigenous and People of Color, and attempts to maintain solidarity among all people of color, while acknowledging the specific trauma that has been perpetrated on Black and Indigenous people in the United States. I do not believe that anyone can deny that racism has affected all people of color, but this nation’s treatment of Black and Native people has at times reached genocidal proportions.

My mother’s teaching did not deny the injustice done against her and her contemporaries, but she kept it in perspective, and she did not deny the injustice done to others. In the same mindset, I feel the need to acknowledge the rise in anti-Asian violence that has coincided with the rise of COVID-19.

As other Asians have discussed this, I have lived in relative denial, because while the name-calling, spitting, and exclusion of Asians have escalated across the country, it did not result in the hugely disproportionate number of deaths experienced by Blacks, Latinos, and Native Americans during this time period. Asians have not suffered as much from poverty or lack of adequate and responsive health care (not saying they have not suffered AT ALL, just not as much), so we have not contracted COVID or died from it at the same heightened levels as other people of color. Nor have we faced the same levels of undue violence at the hands of police officers (again, not totally—I have my own police harassment story).

And, we Asians who live in Southern California (especially San Gabriel Valley!) seem to be in some kind of protective bubble—or so our friends who live in other states tell us. But this bubble may be ephemeral, as we hear of elders in the Bay Area who were attacked, one fatally—or of an Asian elementary school teacher’s aide who was beaten with his own cane while waiting at a bus stop in Rosemead. Only recently have these attacks been mentioned in the news media, because the numbers have been relatively low, and perhaps because these attacks do not conform to the “model minority” myth of Asians that has been used as ammunition against charges of racism by other people of color.

The leadership of San Gabriel Presbytery has raised the question of racism, and how we can more intentionally work to dismantle it. As Christians, we know that we live in a world that has been broken by inherited sin, including the sin of racism. And as Christians, we know that we are offered the opportunity to be freed from sin, not through our efforts but through the gift of Christ’s grace.

As North American Christians of all races, we are claimed and called by God to share the good news that in Christ we can be freed from the sins that divide us, and the Holy Spirit empowers us to be agents of love and justice. This isn’t automatic; Hebrews 12:1 speaks of “the sin that clings so closely,” and tells us to “run with perseverance the race that is set before us.” And we need not reduce the issues of the world to black-white or male-female; if we take the time to see each other as the people God made us to be, we may more fully appreciate God’s amazing creativity in fashioning and forming each of us as beautifully unique glimpses into God’s kin-dom.

We can be a beacon of hope in this world beaten down by division, as we come to love and live together, respecting and enjoying each other for all that we are. May it be so.

In Christ’s peace,

Every Thursday at 4 pm, Monte Vista Grove has been holding their Convocations by Zoom. I have attended several, and they have been fascinating. It seems that because they are meeting via Zoom, they are able to hear speakers from Virginia, Chicago, and Australia. Their current series will continue through March, and I encourage you to join them via https://www.mvgh.org/convocations

This coming Thursday, the Convocation will celebrate the World Day of Prayer, this year led by the women of the island nation of Vanuatu. On March 11, General Assembly Co-Moderator Elona Street- Stewart will speak; she is a wise Indigenous woman who has been a national church leader for decades. It was so perfect that she and Gregory Bentley are Co-Moderators at this moment, because both have been strong leaders and prophets for the PC(USA) for many years, and so are well prepared to provide guidance and challenge during this time of new awareness and self-examination.

On March 18 and 24, Ross Purdy and Jerry Andrews will speak on “Evangelicalism in the Presbyterian Church Today.” I am so grateful for the opportunity to listen to these sessions, because the evangelical voice has been almost totally silenced in the PC(USA) in recent years. I am also grateful for evangelical leaders who continue to strive to be a reconciling presence through and after the conflict that caused so much distress in the denomination. Jerry Andrews has been especially proactive in seeking dialogue among evangelicals and progressives in the PC(USA).

I could not attend last week’s session, but the talk from the week before still rings in my ears. The speaker was Trevor Wie, a man who was raised among the Original Peoples of Australia. He took on the challenge of explaining the social psychology and value set of his indigenous culture—in less than one hour! It was a daunting challenge which he took on valiantly, but I confess I had a difficult time understanding all he was sharing with us. I took to spotlighting other attendees to see if they seemed to be tracking better than I.

I was especially intrigued in Mr. Wie’s talk because the description included the statement “When you are asking questions you are not listening.” That statement immediately took me back to Hawai‘i, where I could see the stark contrast between the locals (Polynesian and Asian) who learned by watching their elders, and the mainlanders who needed verbal instructions given to them. This caused stress for the locals whose ways were ignored or misinterpreted unless they forced themselves to explain what had never been reduced to words before, and the mainlanders felt excluded and mystified by local ways that were not explained to them.

It also reminded me of my surprise when I was told that a Hawaiian value was tentativeness. Now how often have you heard a North American parent say, “I just wish my child would grow up to be more tentative!” The value of being tentative is not one of timidness or fearfulness, but of grace, or a reluctance to impose oneself unnecessarily on others.

As Mr. Wie spoke of the importance of permission, I thought of Indigenous people on this continent, who are so careful to seek permission before they speak of their ancestors, or of their culture. That clicked for me, how difficult it was for me to understand Mr. Wie’s sharing as long as I listened from my North American, non-Indigenous context. When I lived in Hawai‘i, I had the great privilege to serve a native Hawaiian church, so I had several years of stories and practices and lessons and mistakes and forgiveness that helped me glimpse into an entirely different way of being. I can’t say that I truly understood their world view, but I could see how there was a very different set of values that, when taken together as a whole, provided an alternate way of life that taught me so much. When I lived in Hawai‘i, I often thought I was a better person when I was there—I think I brought back with me some of what I learned, but I apologize to you all now for what I have forgotten!

Even if I was qualified to explain, I would not try to articulate this way of being that is so fundamentally different from the dominant culture here. But a few values that I think might be shared with other indigenous cultures include:

• the strong sense of community belonging (and seeing oneself only within the context of community),
• the dual values of gratitude for abundance, and responsibility (or practicing moderation),
• the integration of spiritual/physical/rational/intuitive experience, and
• the value of humility, which might be adjacent to tentativeness, as a sign of respect for

Why am I sharing this? We are in the season of Lent, and we are reminded of the ways Jesus sacrificed himself for the cause of righteousness—and then challenged us to do likewise. Yesterday I heard a preacher be totally open with the difficulty of trying to follow the way of Jesus, when we remember that the way of Jesus was the way of the cross. In our society, much of Jesus’ teachings would be considered irrational, and downright unhealthy. But if we are truly converted away from the ways of the world, if we fully lean into the goodness of God and life eternal, if we want to emulate the love of Jesus for friends and those in need, then perhaps we can let go of what seems reasonable—which can also be restricting us from a faith-filled life.

Rather than picking and choosing one lesson or another—like choosing one thing to “give up for Lent”

—perhaps we might offer our whole selves to God. And by giving ourselves to God, we may see how everything falls together, in a way that celebrates community, and grace, and abundance, and giftedness, and humility, and self-restraint, and gentleness, and respect, and trust in God whose power to love and save has been shown to us in Jesus Christ. Jesus warned us that this new way of being will be misunderstood, even hated, by the rest of the world, because the way of God’s realm is not the way of the world. May we follow God’s way—and by doing so, our lives will be small glimpses into the kin- dom. What a heavenly calling!

May this Lenten season remind you of God’s love. Peace,

Wendy

February is Black History Month, and before the month runs out I wanted to share a thought about it.

It’s an opportune time to gauge where we are these days in the celebration of our multiracial nation. This year, there has been much more interest in confronting racism, including a more open acknowledgement of the ways white privilege pervades our lives and the very fabric of our society. But during Black History Month, I believe it’s important to appreciate how African Americans are so much more than victims of racism. Certainly racism is the original sin of this nation, and has been used against African Americans and Indigenous peoples more than anyone else. But there is much to celebrate in the legacy of Black Excellence in the United States. There are countless stories of heroism, insight, creativity, and perseverance to tell—stories of well-known people like Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, George Washington Carver, W. E. B. Dubois, Dorothy Vaughan and Katherine Johnson. And then there are folks who aren’t as well-known, like Hazel Scott and Beulah Mae Donald and Robert Smalls. I’ve written about Ms. Scott and Ms. Donald in the past, but not Mr. Smalls.

Robert Smalls was born in 1839 to Lydia Polite, a woman enslaved by Henry McKee. As a teenager he was hired out to various jobs in Charleston, South Carolina, eventually gaining increasing knowledge and responsibility working as a longshoreman, a sail maker, and eventually he was piloting ships. By the time he was 23, in 1862, he organized an escape for himself and 16 others by taking the Planter, the gunboat he was working on, past several forts, including Fort Sumter, and he delivered the boat to the Union Navy. Smalls gave to the Union not only the ship and the arms and property on it (including a Confederate code book), but he shared his substantial knowledge of Confederate troop movements and the mines he had planted in his enslavement.

Smalls went on to pilot several boats in several campaigns, and went to Washington, DC, with Methodist minister Mansfield French to persuade President Lincoln to permit Black men to fight for the Union. Soon after, an order permitted up to 5,000 African Americans to enlist in Union forces. Smalls himself was present in 17 major battles and engagements in the Civil War.

After the war, Smalls went back to his hometown of Beaufort. He purchased the house where he and his mother had been enslaved, and his family moved in. He also bought a 2-story building to use as a school. While his former master, Henry McKee, had passed away, McKee’s widow Jane Bond McKee faced poor mental and physical health later in life. Smalls allowed Mrs. McKee to move back into the house, and though she imagined that he was still enslaved to her, Smalls cared for her until her death.

Robert Smalls went on to enter politics. He was one of the founders of the South Carolina Republican Party, and in 1868 he was elected to the South Carolina House of Representatives. There he helped to write their new constitution, and he was dedicated to provide free education to all children in the state, regardless of race, and authored legislation to establish its first public education system.  Smalls

served in the US House of Representatives 1875-1879, 1882-1883, and 1884-1887. In addition, he contributed to the economic development of the Charleston area, starting a local railroad and publishing a local newspaper. Robert Smalls remained an influential leader in South Carolina until his death in 1915, having left behind a legacy of human rights, education, and entrepreneurship.

When we were preparing for WinterFest, Cyndie Crowell shared the great expense Trinity Presbyterian Church had to pay to eradicate the asbestos that got released when they worked on the preschool roof. They had to close down the preschool, pretty much take the rooms down to the studs, and rebuild the classrooms from scratch, and they went through the pain of hearing and responding to the great disappointment of the preschool’s staff and families. After listening to Cyndie’s tale of woe, another panelist, Stephen Robertson, suggested that asbestos is a good metaphor for racism. It’s hidden in nearly all our buildings, it takes an enormous cost and almost total demolition to remove it, and though it’s dangerous, we ignore it until it’s exposed. (It occurred to me that many have decided the most efficient way of dealing with asbestos is not to eradicate it, but just cover it over, because it’s so expensive and intrusive to really get it out.)

The happy ending is that the relationships were preserved, and the resulting classrooms were better than they were before—since they had to deconstruct the classrooms, they took this as an opportunity to rethink some things and make other improvements.

When we see the amazing contributions made by Black Americans even under the yoke of slavery and entrenched white privilege, perhaps we can seek to eradicate racism, no matter the cost and the lengths we must take, with the confidence that we will end up not only with stronger relationships and freedom from the threat of its deadly poisoning, but also we can build in a better new way of living and working together. And once the sin of racism is gone, we can’t even imagine the greater initiative, ingenuity and faithful leadership that will be liberated, for the benefit of everyone and to reflect the glory of God. Let it be so!

Peace,
Wendy

We seem to be in one of those pivot moments with COVID. The numbers of new cases and hospitalizations are going down by about half, and the most common greeting these days is “Have you been vaccinated yet?” I’m hearing from our local retirement communities that all residents and staff have received both doses of their vaccinations, to their and our great relief. It feels like the gloom of January has alleviated somewhat, and I just hope that we stay vigilant and careful, even as the numbers go from horrifyingly high to just bad.

As the blanket of death has lifted somewhat, I was struck by hearing from Stephanie Kang, who is a chaplain supervisor at a hospital in Whittier. During a committee meeting that she faithfully attended even in her stressful life, she shared the burden of caring: for patients who die in isolation, for their families who cannot adequately say good-bye, and for the healthcare workers who continue to work in war-like conditions of long hours and overwhelming death, exemplified by the four temporary morgues parked at her hospital. I have not asked enough for prayers for our chaplains and health care workers in our communities, as they are focused on their life-saving work now, but also as they transition to the time when they will have enough time for the waves of grief to come in. Our chaplains for retirees, Lauren Evans and Diane Frasher, have been thinking about ways to address the grief that will be welling up in our retirement communities, but also in all of us, and we hope to be able to share more soon.

In the life of the church, Ash Wednesday—this Wednesday—is a time for us to remember our own mortality. I have never known a year when our mortality is so apparent, as we contemplate the frailty of our existence on this earth. It has certainly been a time for us to reflect on our need for God, and the great love that God has, so much that God can love each of us enough to enter into our own brokenness in Jesus Christ. I was delighted to receive the gift of a “Lent in a Bag” kit from my family church, First Presbyterian Altadena. I think they were partly inspired by some ideas shared at WinterFest (which is so thrilling to me), and their thoughtfulness truly touched me.

As it happens, this coming Saturday is the 10-year anniversary of my father’s death. Like Stephanie’s sharing, this came to me during a committee meeting, and my first reaction was just reflecting on how old I am now, because a friend responded by being shocked that it’s been that long since he died. But then I remembered another time the Altadena church folk came to our house. Dad had just come home under hospice care, and my sister and I went to Altadena that Sunday morning, as much as anything to let them know that he was near death. Several members of the church asked if they could come visit him, and so they came that afternoon and surrounded his bed with their love and prayers.

At the time, Altadena had a young man playing piano for worship, and he brought his portable keyboard so they could sing for my dad. The young man’s father (who happens to be Fuller professor Mark Lau Branson) whispered to his son, reminding him that Mr. Tajima preferred hymns rather than praise songs. Noah said “yeah, Dad, I know.” And so they sang some hymns, prayed, and said farewell. Dad went on to the Lord shortly after they left.

Yesterday was Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday before Lent. I tend to think of the Transfiguration as a moment when the curtain between eternity and mortality was pulled back, giving Jesus and his followers an image of the life that never ends, as Jesus neared the end of his earthly days. That day 10 years ago was an image for me of how church can give that glimpse of heaven, as my father’s soul was lifted up to eternity by the songs, prayers, and love of his church family.

As I share this precious memory, I am heartbroken that not all deaths can be experienced in the loving embrace of family and friends, especially during this pandemic. Perhaps this is why I am so grateful to the nurses and other healthcare workers who have taken on that added role as human bridge to loved ones who cannot be physically present. I can only pray that just as we can know the love of God without God appearing to us in the flesh, all those who transition into eternal life are drawn forward by God’s grace, and the temporary pains of this world are quickly forgotten.

And for those of us left behind, I am grateful beyond words for our churches who are finding ways to love our people, especially those who are grieving. Even if we are apart, even when we lose loved ones, we are not alone, we are not forgotten, and thank God we are all loved by God, and each other. Mortal as we are, in Christ we are saved forever.

In the quiet of this Lenten season, may we know peace,

Wendy

This may be the easiest column I’ve every written. All I need to do is reflect for a moment on last week’s WinterFest, and I see abundant proof of Bruce Reyes-Chow’s assertion in his keynote presentation: that God has already given us more than enough to do the work of God’s realm. If not obvious, the corollary is that the abundance is there, and it’s up to us to see it.

stop being surprised by how well you and the churches you serve have done during the pandemic

Apparently I am one who did not see it, because I was struck by Bruce’s first statement:

(If you want to see Bruce’s slides, go to https://www.slideshare.net/breyeschow/slideshelf#. We will make the recording of his presentation available in a couple of weeks.)

Immediately I realized that my surprise was a result of low expectations of what we are willing or able to do—or, worse, what God is willing or able to do through us.

But when we are open to the gifts that God offers to us, the abundance is amazing.

The most obvious abundance was shown through the EEE (Education, Equipping, and Empowerment) Committee, who organized WinterFest. They were the ones who responded to the restrictions of COVID-19 by deciding to change our 6-hour Saturday event to a weeklong extravaganza, and to record the sessions as we build up an on-line archive of trainings. All the sessions were recorded and will be made available later this month; look to future Monday Morning Updates for the link.

This video library will go along with worship resources that were first developed for World Communion Sunday, and more will be developed for the Easter season. (More details on that later.)

As it turns out, the majority of participants joined us every night, so that it started to feel like a weeklong all-Presbytery retreat. And because one of the themes of this WinterFest was “Let’s learn from each other” (do you remember that wonderful promotional video that Becca Bateman made?), many of the sessions were led by our own people, which gave all of us a glimpse into the wonderful creativity and faithfulness of our church leaders.

This turned out to be a timely pivot from the crisis of grieving what we were used to and wondering how to do church without meeting in person, to dreaming what we will be and wondering how to do church in person while also extending our reach and mission through online connections. We don’t want to shut down this new era of evangelism, moving beyond the confines and exclusivity of physical gatherings, as we consider what we will bring back, and what new ways of church we will continue in the coming “hybrid” world of the church.

For myself, I would like to retain the flexibility of allowing for remote connections, and the opportunities that arise from that, including broader participation and the ability to share resources and ideas (ask Millason Dailey and the Calvary folk about ways to keep connected with church members and the community, or ask Peter Tan-Gatue about smartphone prayers!). My biggest hope is to retain the permission to make mistakes as we try new things, and the natural feedback loop that I trust has been infused with grace. And as we saw with WinterFest, let us have eyes to see and appreciate the gifts of our own people, if we give them a chance to share them.

And let us always give thanks. For WinterFest, we give thanks to lead organizer Pat Martinez-Miller, along with other EEE Committee members Jennifer Ackerman, Sam Bang, Shawna Banks, Becca Bateman, Deidra Goulding, and Peter Tan-Gatue. Thanks to the many presenters, the 100 or so attendees, and witnesses to our connectional church like Bruce Reyes-Chow and Alice Ridgill who joined us from as far away as the Bay Area and North Carolina. And many, many thanks to incoming Stated Clerk for Administration, Ally Lee, who as EEE member created and managed the coordinating work and technology platform which allowed WinterFest to blossom without a hitch. Ally is taking this week as study leave, as she prepares for her expanded clerk responsibilities. Please let me know if you need anything this week, so she has time to focus.

As we look ahead to our hybrid future (not now—the PEC guidance to plan to worship out of the buildings at least through Easter holds; Bruce Reyes-Chow shared that his church in Palo Alto will not hold worship in their building until September), let us never forget how God provides, in abundance. And let us always look to God for guidance, and look to each other to see what God can do through us!

Blessings in all the ups and downs of life,

Wendy

As we move into 2021, our Presbytery meeting last Tuesday marked many transitions.

We thanked Jennifer Ackerman and blessed her as she has moved to Portland, Oregon, and completed her term as chair of our Education (now Education, Equipping, and Empowerment) Committee. This was also Diane Frasher’s last meeting as Stated Clerk, and we thank her for her service in that ministry, while we are grateful that she continues in our Presbytery family as Chaplain for Retired Presbyterian Church Workers at Monte Vista Grove Homes. Roberto Ramírez completed his term as Moderator of the Presbytery Executive Commission (which followed his service as Vice Moderator and Moderator of the Presbytery). David Cortés-Fuentes and Josey Saez Acevedo have settled in Puerto Rico, and we approved David’s request to transfer his membership to el Presbiterio Noroeste there. And we marked the deaths of Dick Hettish, Ross Kinsler, and Lee and Don Hawthorne, all beloved and devoted saints to family and the people of God.

While we honored the transition out of ministries and relationships, there were also many opportunities to celebrate new ministries and new friends. Harlan Redmond was enrolled as an Inquirer under care of CPM, and Bruce Myers was received as a member of Presbytery and Site Pastor for the West Covina Ministry Center. As Diane leaves her role as Stated Clerk at the end of February, the Presbytery voted to appoint Ally Lee as Stated Clerk for Administration beginning March 1. And we elected William Maweu and Veronica Ota as members of both Justice, Peacemaking and Mission and Self-Development of People.

Later in our meeting, Deborah Owens and Dave Tomlinson were installed as Moderator and Vice Moderator, respectively, of Presbytery, and Deborah is hoping that we can focus this year on what it means to be a Matthew 25 Church. Our national church has asked the church at all levels to consider three focus areas as a Matthew 25 Church:

• Building congregational vitality by challenging people and congregations to deepen their faith and get actively and joyfully engaged with their community and the world.
• Dismantling structural racism by advocating and acting to break down the systems, practices and thinking that underlie discrimination, bias, prejudice and oppression of people of
• Eradicating systemic poverty by working to change laws, policies, plans and structures in our society that perpetuate economic exploitation of people who are

Deborah’s work as Moderator began almost immediately, as this last weekend, she led a celebration of ministry at San Marino Community Church with the installation not only of Jessica Vaughan Lower and Jeff O’Grady as Co-Pastors/Co-Heads of Staff, but also of San Marino’s incoming Ruling Elders and Deacons. It was a great demonstration of the importance and interconnectedness of all ordered ministries in the Presbyterian Church. I recently reread an essay from Joe Small, who once led the Office of Theology and Worship in Louisville, called “The Travail of the Presbytery” (you can google it for some good historical context). In it, he wrote:

. . . all of the ordered ministries were bound together in the common task of ensuring the church’s fidelity to the Word. Therefore, in whatever ways Reformed ministries might be ordered today, they must remain undivided. When a minister – pastor, elder, deacon – performs any ministerial act, it is performed on behalf of the whole ministry; no one may act alone as the representative of Christ.

As part of this connectional church, we were happy to hear from Mark Hong, our Synod Executive/ Stated Clerk, who reflected on the ministry of the Synod, especially in partnership with our seven presbyteries: Santa Barbara, San Fernando, San Gabriel, Riverside, Pacific, Los Ranchos, San Diego.

Roberto Ramírez highlighted the Presbytery Executive Commission’s letter to all our churches, giving guidance to strongly recommend all our churches continue to worship online and/or outdoors at least through Easter.

The fruits of our connectionalism were also reflected in the number of grants we have received and also given. Thanks to a $70,000 grant from the House of Rest, we can continue to offer chaplaincy ministry among our retired pastors, missionaries, and church workers, with Lauren Evans and Diane Frasher continuing in their roles. The Justice, Peacemaking and Mission Committee announced grants through the El Monte Initiative. They approved $28,978 to CaliCenter at Puente de Esperanza Church in La Puente and $9,000 to the food distribution program at El Monte Community Presbyterian Church. JPM was also able to give smaller grants, to help the staff of Living Waters for the World in Peru ($300), and food distribution programs at Immanuel Presbyterian in Koreatown and El Monte Community Presbyterian ($600 each).

Continuing in their focus on meeting basic needs in this time of pandemic, JPM designated this meeting’s offering to the San Fernando Valley Refugee Children’s Center. You can still donate by sending a check made out to San Gabriel Presbytery to: 9723 Garibaldi Avenue, Temple City 91780, with “Presbytery Offering” on the memo line. Or, you can give online at sangabpres.org/donate and use the drop down menu to “Give to Presbytery Offering.”

As I write this, I just received a lovely text of encouragement and appreciation from a faithful leader in the PC(USA), who has been especially focused on the National Black Presbyterian Caucus. The text celebrates the ways God creates every one of us, and this message of affirmation for others was the way he chose to kick off February as Black History Month.

So as we spend this week of WinterFest in body building, and as we begin this month of celebration and remembrance for the profound history of perseverance and faith in Black History Month, and as we focus on how we can be a Matthew 25 Church, we are thankful that we can do God’s work in the world together, supporting each other in love.

Thanks be to God, and see you all this week!

Wendy