 Spirit of Heaven's God, we are a circle, within a circle. We are a circle, within a circle, we give Him thanks to Him. Welcome to the First Unitarian Society of Madison. It is such a joy to see you all this morning. If you're visiting us today, welcome. This is a beautiful time to be with us as we highlight the joy and the beauty and the gifts of our choirs. If you're interested in more information about First Unitarian Society, please stop by the welcome table in the commons. It's located to my left, right next to the elevators. And now winter comes. Its labored breath, misting the morning, frost sparkling on the pier. Exposed now, the birds make no pretense of shyness, smothering the feeders, fueling against the cold. In March, I didn't welcome spring celebration, exploding from every limb's end. But today, I am not ready to batten down for winter. Give me another morning to stand coatless before the awakening dawn. But pine boughs have already been wreathed and bowed, and fir trees cut and limbed for countless living rooms. So let me breathe good fresh air and wrap my coat around me. Let our hearts warm to the smells and the smiles of winter. Let us hold hands in the cold and sing carols to season these days with merriment. With hopeful hearts, may we let winter be received. And I invite you now to rise in all the ways we do as we light our chalice. Let's sing our chalice greeting together today. Our traditional opening hymn for all music Sunday. Let Christmas come, number 220. Now raise your hands. How many of you enjoyed the snow on Friday? How many of you tried to drive in the snow on Friday? Right, the snow is beautiful. Trees, they look absolutely stunning. And the roads, my goodness, the roads. So winter does bring its beauty. It also brings its challenges, and we all meet those challenges in different ways. But our story today, some of you may remember this time way back when in the year of 1978. How many of you can remember 1978? There we are. Well, John Rocco was a child in that year, and a blizzard hit his town. Any guess of how much snow they got? 16, Ruby made, do you remember? Eight, some of our kiddos heard this yesterday at the Saturday service. They were prepped and ready for today. They had four feet of snow. So this is John's story. One day when I was a young boy, four feet of snow fell from the sky. This is my story. The first flake fell on Monday right before recess. It was followed by many, many more. The wind whipped up and school closed early. By the time my sister and I got home, the snow was already over our boots. What would you say if school closed early? Yeah! What would the teacher say if school closed early? Yeah! There they are. The snow continued to fall through the night, and I thought it would never stop. The next morning the snow drifts were so high we couldn't open our front door, so we went out the window instead. We laughed as we sank deep into the frozen powder, but walking was hard. It was like trying to move through white quicksand. Every few steps, I had to stop and rest. It was even too deep for our sled. We needed a sled dog. When we went back inside, we were cold, wet, and tired. We made camp by the wood stove, and our feet tingled as we sipped hot cocoa made with milk. On the third day, what are they up to? Wednesday. Dad shoveled the driveway so he could get the car out when the snow plows came. We dug tunnels and secret rooms under the snow and talked about igloos. By day four, the plows still hadn't come. I wondered if we would ever see grass again. Inside, as you can imagine, things got tense. Our food started to run out. How many parents just went, yep, I know those faces, right? I knew we couldn't survive much longer on cocoa made with water. We needed to get to the store, but we couldn't figure out how to get there. The roads weren't plowed, and we certainly couldn't walk through the snow. On day five, I realized it was up to me to take action. I was the only one who had memorized the survival guide. There he is, look at the Arctic survival guide. I was the only one who knew what equipment was required. Okay, what is he pulling out? Why tennis? Is he going to play tennis in the snow? What's he going to do with tennis racquets? Snow shoes. How many of you have ever used snow shoes? They're hard, aren't they? I think I made it a foot and I stopped. I was the only one light enough to walk on top of the snow. There he goes. On day six, I made a list. I prepared the sled and I set off. My usual landmarks were covered by snowdrifts, but I managed to check in with the neighbors on my long journey. They needed candles, cat food, coffee, and peanut butter. Along the way, I checked in with the neighbors. I helped build a snowman. I climbed a lookout. I went the wrong way. I made an angel, explored an igloo. I joined a snowball fight and then I made it to the store. At last, at the store, I was tired. I was hungry. I was chilled to the bone, but I couldn't think about myself. I was on a mission. I got all the supplies and told them I could carry it by myself on my sled. Mom called while I was there and they told her I was on my way home. On the return trip, I raced to drop off the groceries before the sun went down. Grateful smiles and cheers gave me the energy I needed to get back home. I slowly made my way up to the door. My family came out to greet me. I had done it and I was so very tired. That night, we all had hot cocoa made with milk and it had never tasted better. But there was something else. Does anybody know what else do they still need? What hasn't come yet? Snow plows! It looked as though we would see civilization again after all and we would have to go back to school tomorrow. And now look it. The kids are saying we have to go back to school boo. But look at the parents. Thanks, heaven. I was going stir crazy. We had survived the blizzard. Gray skies over my head. Throw yourselves like quilts over my busy life. Remind me to sit down and rest. Stars of winter, Orion's sash sparkling across the heavens. Remind me by your distance that compared to the infinity of the universe every single thing I struggle with on earth is small, hardly universal in scope. Great music of the season glowing with angel songs and filigree with great mysteries. Remind me that my own birth, like the births of all people in this room, was no less mysterious than that ancient and celebrated birth. No less brimming with wonder for all children that come into the world have lives as precious to them as that singular holy life. So now come, love greater than my longing, silence greater than the fatigue of tongues, and haul my heart away from the undue frenzy of this season and bestow it to rest in the haunting dark beauty of winter's long nights. For Christmas from Mary Alice says a country legend told every year, go to the barn on Christmas Eve and see what the creatures do is that long night tips over. Down on their knees they will go, the fire of an old memory whistling through their minds. I went, wrapped to my eyes against the cold, I creaked back the barn door and peered in. From town the church bells spilled their midnight music and the beast listened, yet they lay in their stalls like stone. Oh, the heretics, not to remember Bethlehem or the star as bright as the sun or the child born on a bed of straw, to know only the dissolving now. Still they drowsed on, citizens of the pure, the physical worlds they loomed in the dark, powerful of body, peaceful of mind, innocent of history. Brothers, I whispered, it is Christmas and you are no heretics, but a miracle. Immaculate still is when you were thundered forth on the morning of creation. As for Bethlehem, that blazing star still sails the dark, but only looks for me. Caught in its light, listening again to its story, I curled against some sleepy beast who nuzzled my hair as though I were a child and warmed me the best it could all night. Hospital, the wind is blowing, there's no beside, so let the sapphire fire stop and church will be yours in the morning. Calling rivers and sapphire fields, you are the fire and we in the starry sky. I love the beauty of snow. I like to watch it through a window as it transforms familiar landscapes. I like to walk in it at night and absorb its soft glow. Snow brings wonder and magic. I love the quiet of snow. When I lived in Manhattan, a storm dropped over a foot of snow on the city. I woke up that morning to an unaccustomed sound. Silence. The traffic had stopped in the din of commerce and shouts from the street were gone. For a few hours, the city was a different place. I love the sense of community that snow brings. We come together in uncommonly good humor during a snowstorm. I don't think we ever talk quite so easily with friends and strangers as when it snows. I love the gift of time a good snowstorm brings. Meetings and classes are called off. We find ourselves with an unexpected day or evening to ourselves. Usually, I fill my life with plans. A snowed out night shows me that there is more to life than what I have covered. I don't like the weather people on television who fuss and grumble at the thought of snow and who like their weather only warm and sunny. To my mind, warm and sunny is overrated. It's nice for a change, but too much of it makes us dull and complacent. Besides, there's no thrill on a warm and sunny day of coming into a cozy house with a cup of hot chocolate, settling into a soft chair to read or dream or gaze through the windows as the world outside is transformed. I invite you into this time of giving and receiving where we give freely and generously to this offering which sustains and strengthens our community. This week specifically supports the FUS Music Program. There are multiple ways to share your gifts this morning. There are baskets at the entrances to the doors to this room and you will also see on the screen that you can donate directly from our website, FUSMadison.org. You'll see the text to give information there as well. We thank you for your generosity and your faith in this life we create together. Long ago, in the land of Israel, the shepherds pastured their flocks on many a hilltop and looked down into the fertile fields and the valleys and vineyards of the hillsides. The little villages, the winding roads, the paths over which their neighbors traveled. Imagine a hilltop at night with a silent watcher alert to guard the flock which was huddled together in sleep. The valleys fill with silvery mist until the hilltop is like a little island in an unbounded sea. But the atmosphere is clear above and the stars seem strangely near. Through the long hours of silent night, the shepherd watches the majestic movements of the heavenly bodies. The lonely watcher is rewarded by discovering the universe. There are no stars except for those who sit in the darkness. The light of day calls attention to the things of earth, but the night reveals the heavens. Many of the most majestic passages in scripture readings come from those who sat atop the hill and watched the stars. Their meditations gave them insights and they enriched our lives by their declarations. With the earth submerged in night, the glory of the heavens revealed, people gained new faith in life, in themselves, in what was possible. The strife and confusion of ordinary life fell away in such meditation. Peace and harmony were revealed in the heavens. Light and music and joy and hope stirred human hearts, which for a few hours of meditation turned from the temporary things to the eternal and rich was their discovery. It was to shepherds upon the hilltops that the Christmas message first came. The music which was above the discords of the world came to their ears. The light which was above the mist of earth came to their eyes. Of old it was said, they that sat in darkness have seen a great light. To them comes the revelation of the beauty and the order of the universe, for their ears is the message. Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace. Goodwill to all. Christmas is a discovery and it waits only for hearts that can respond to it. Winter, the world, and it is our guest of honor. Hugs the arriving logs that clatter in to take their place by the fire. Mows kiss the prickly branches of holly so elegant in green and red. The forest which we have called and asked to come travels long roads to get here. Finally she arrives tired but bursting with the energy of high mountain cascades and starry nights. She tumbles across the threshold to be fussed over until she is comfortably settled in the living room. Soon the whole house is filled with the world's presence and it is up to us now to make her feel at home. Let this be the year we fully welcome the world and treat her right and lift our glasses and a toast to her and thank her and keep our resolutions and mean it when we say joy to the world. Now let us rise in body and our spirit to sing our closing hymn. Number 226. People look east versus one and three. The angels is stilled. When the star in the sky is gone. When the kings and princes are home. When the shepherds are back with their flock. The work.