Message from Pastor Alessandri September 30, 2022




September 30, 2022

“Why?”, you ask.

October 2  9 a.m.
Gathering Room

Plan to be at church early next Sunday for a wonderful musical treat. The conductor and musicians of the Sunday School Orchestra inspire and amaze. They are a “God-sighting” for sure.

Let’s show our appreciation for this gift with our presence at 9 a.m. in the Gathering Room next Sunday. Hope to see you there!


“SEEING THE HOLY IN THE ORDINARY” is the theme for the Adult Sunday School class led by Pastor Alessandri that starts this Sunday. Grab your coffee and treats from the coffee fellowship (Thank you Amy Mason, for hosting) and come to the Adult Sunday School room (across from the music room and next to the nursery room) at 11 am. Aren’t you a bit curious?



You have an invitation to a party from the king!

Be sure to come THIS Sunday, October 2nd, 11 am





There is a sign-up sheet in the Narthex of the church for you to volunteer to help either pack the backpacks here at Haven OR deliver the backpacks to Fountaindale Elementary School. You can do it solo, with a friend or as a family. Neither packing nor delivering takes much time, but it means a child from a food-insecure family has food for the weekend.




…from Richard Rohr:

Tiny Opportunities to Love


Memoirist Heather King spent a year praying with Thérèse of Lisieux’s insights, and describes how Thérèse practiced her “little way” through relationships:

Some of the best-known anecdotes about Thérèse concern her saint-like, though seemingly small efforts with respect to her fellow nuns:

  1. She overcame her instinctive dislike of a particular nun, and . . . [exhibited] such charity that the sister actually thought Thérèse felt a special fondness for her.
  2. She stifled her almost compulsive desire to turn around and glare at the nun behind her in choir who made a clicking noise (apparently by tapping her rosary against her teeth), realizing that the more charitable act would be to pretend that the sound was music to Christ’s ears and endure the annoyance in silence.
  3. Every evening at dinnertime Thérèse took it upon herself to usher a particularly vexatious elderly nun from chapel to her place at table in the refectory, even going the extra mile to lovingly cut the crabapple’s bread.

Saints do not live in some other world. . . . They live in the same world we do, and they show us that spirituality is intensely down-to-earth. We learn to love through frustration, disappointment, and failure. We learn through the seemingly trivial incidents of our daily lives.

“When I am feeling nothing . . . then is the moment for seeking opportunities, nothings, which please Jesus. . . . For example, a smile, a friendly word, when I would want to say nothing, or put on a look of annoyance,” [1] Thérèse wrote, and “I have no desire to go to Lourdes to have ecstasies. I prefer (the monotony of sacrifice)!” [2]

King applies the spirit of Thérèse’s small, loving acts to her own life:

I began to see the almost superhuman strength required to refrain from, say, repeating a juicy bit of gossip, or rolling my eyes, or allowing my voice to get harsh when I was upset. I began to sense as well that, just because they’re so difficult, such acts perhaps do far more good than we can ever know. Standing patiently in line helped the other people in line to be patient as well. Blessing the other person in traffic, even though nobody heard or saw, somehow encouraged someone else to bless the next person. When the neighborhood noise bothered me, I sometimes took to starting with one corner of my apartment complex, visualizing the person or people who lived there, and working my way around, praying for the inhabitants of each. (Other times I took to tearing out my hair and cursing.) . . .

We can try, at great personal sacrifice, to be perfectly righteous, a perfect friend, perfectly responsive, perfectly available, perfectly forgiving. But at the heart of our efforts must lie the knowledge that, by ourselves, we can do, heal, or correct nothing. The point is not to be perfect, but to “perfectly” leave Christ to do, heal, and correct in us what he wills.