Maria, living on an isolated farm in the middle of an Icelandic winter, asks a passing traveler to bring her some books from the store when he returns from the town. "I don't know when I'll get there next.... Would you perhaps choose three books for me?"
"Do you think I can choose correctly?" he asks.
"Choose something that is ... different, which ... where the words don't sit still on the page, but instead fly to the sky and give us wings, even though we might not have the sky to fly in."
That scene, from Jon Kalman Stefansson's marvelous novel, The Sorrow of Angels,* sets the bar very high for any writer. Yet that is what we hope - and pray - each issue of this newsletter might do.
For this 101st issue, we have chosen to reflect upon "Reflections." 
Since July 2009, Jan and I have been sharing our thoughts, our reflections, on the life we have lived, the places we have visited, the people we have met. We have written about situations that trouble us and people that inspire us. We attempt to look beneath the surface, beyond the obvious, for glimpses of God's holy presence.
Some issues are pure joy to write. Others are hard work, a challenge to say something worthy of our readers' time, something that reflects at least a spark of God's glory.
Each time, we pray our words don't sit still on the page, that they touch a heart, lift a spirit, open minds to new vistas and eyes to new horizons. We pray that the task of writing, of reflecting, will touch our own hearts, lift our spirits, and open our eyes as well.
Sometimes, the words may even soar. But even when they don't fly to the sky, may the fluttering of these words direct the attention of us all to things we might not have seen, to places where God's light is reflected.
Bill
*London: MacLehose Press, 2013, p. 152.
