Yesterday, I shared the story of my friend and colleague Steve Sylvester, whose son died in a tragic accident earlier this year and for whom our congregation had hosted a funeral . As Steve reflected on the past few months, he was able to recognize that, all thing considered, he was doing ok.  As much as this kind of grief could have the capacity to cripple anyone, Steve was surprised by how he has been able to keep going.  And he credits his faith as the place from which he’s drawn whatever strength he’s needed to get through each new day. Steve said, “I’m thankful that I believed before I had to.”

I’ve spent my fair share of time in vineyards and wineries; each one is different.  In the big business of winemaking, there are so many beautiful facilities, funded by big-monied interests eager to promote a high value experience with their gleaming tasting rooms and temples to the finer things in life.  But I have always preferred visiting the wineries willing to show an altogether different side of winemaking, the side that is messy with dirt and leaves and spilled grape juice.