We sometimes pray "for all people in their daily life and work - for our families, friends, and neighbors, and for those who are alone." Perhaps because I am an only child, because I was unpartnered most of my life, because I value self-sufficiency in myself and others . . . aloneness resonates with me. And even though "alone" does not necessarily mean "lonely," I am sensitized to the lonelier aspects of solitude, too. St. Thomas can be shelter, community, family for those who are alone as well as for families and partnerships made stronger by a foundation of abundant love in Christ.

As a Foreign Service Officer, I am called to serve for two to three years at a time at U.S. embassies and consulates all over the world.  D.C. 20009 is my address of record for tax and voting purposes, and a Dulles pouch facility forwards my mail and publications when I am out of the country.  Living an otherwise nomadic diplomatic life has reinforced in me the conviction that home is where the heart is.  It’s in the relationships that accompany me and the love I harbor.  And more than a mail warehouse or a zip code, St. Thomas and the family I have found here are my spiritual home – no matter what time zone I happen to be working and living in.

St. Thomas has been and will continue to be my spiritual hearth.  And I feel called to share the warm glow of its firelight with others and to “grow” the wealth of abundant life in Christ, so that others may experience firsthand the same radical hospitality and sense of belonging.  Christians speak of a Eucharist feast, a table with enough room and enough food for all.  For me, St. Thomas is such a place, a haven for those who are alone.

When I give to St. Thomas, I am living out a fervent prayer to that inclusiveness and enduring welcome.  I give because I love St. Thomas, because I have been loved and nurtured by this community, and because I want as many people as possible to be able to pull up comfortable chairs, eat their fill, and make themselves at home.