Sons and (in my hamfisted attempt at a transliterated Hebrew feminine; you have to forgive me I never even tried to learn Hebrew) Daughters of Encouragement, who leave comments and who email or phone or are simply there offering quiet support, I thank you.  You know who who you are, and I am blessed by your words, thoughts and prayers.

Dibley is never dull, and I am learning and, I hope, growing (apart from rounder) all the time.  Discipleship is a tough path, but God never calls us to it alone; one of my greatest gifts is the companionship of fellow disciples who also have bloody knees when they stumble and bruised hearts when they love. 

Over the years I have come to value a mental image of Christ's hands, scarred by nails (even if it was really his wrists) which reach out to pick us up when we fall, to embrace us when we feel broken inside.  If I was an artist, I'd paint it, as I cannot find such a picture anywhere, but I'm not, so it remains in my mind.  Nonetheless, it is into those safe, battered hands that I commend you, encouragers in The Way.