Wow, it's been a long time since I've written. But that's how it goes in life. I just blow past days and friends as if they were telephone poles along the highway. Not much detail just vertical, blurry lines in the periphery.

Then without warning, there I'll be. Pulled over, stepping out of the car either because it broke down or to relieve myself, just a stone's throw away from one of those poles. At full speed, they are a sort of boundary. But stop and look closely and an intricate web of stories and memories and textures are there for the taking. It feels random, the slowing and landing in front of one of them. Our human contacts are just like that.

Sometimes a new acquaintance, and sometimes a soul mate. And most often, a brief touch and a whisper and they are gone. We leave our imprint on each other, it's true. Over time, we'll begin to look like every one we've met in some distant way.

But this time of year, Lent and Easter, I'm more acutely aware of how much we look like our Creator. Each of us, in some way, through what are often called "gifts" take on the expression of the Expression of God. The Holy Spirit. Christ's essence. Who proceeds from the Father, who with the Father and Son is worshiped and glorified... so goes the creed. And yet we are an abstract of that union... we are in fact created in His image and as such, the subject of God's love. How undeserving.

That is who we really look like. Created in God's image. Three in one: water, steam and ice. Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Mind, Body, Soul.

I knelt down looking forward to the chancel wall at communion today. There was my favorite icon, as I have often said. The Trinity. I don't get all the detail of The Trinity, it's like a puzzle with all the inside symbolism. Icons often lose me, I've found. It's almost like the thing keeps moving past you even when you've pulled over to stare a while.

Oddly, one of the things I like most about The Trinity is its color. A beige tone. It's very soothing. And when I see that icon, I feel at home. As I knelt, there was Christopher, watching me closely with a plate full of hosts. He stared me down as I landed on my knees and I flashed on how much of my life has been influenced by him these recent years. He placed the wafer in my hand and I smiled up at him and grabbed his thumb as he went by. A fellow sojourner, Christopher. I went on with my swirling repentance, and waited for the cup to come.

It was Polly Dodds who served me. Funny, feisty and a woman of great accomplishments. Her design sense back before retirement was legendary. She's lost none of it, still brilliant. I tried to catch her eye, as is my custom at communion, but she was concentrating on her balance and tipping the chalice toward my mouth. Then she went to the next person and as I crossed myself I watched the fabric on her alb, almost too close to be in focus. A telephone pole where I happened to be kneeling after my life, broken down once again, came to a complete stop for just a moment.