I walked the dog around the block just now. The day is unseasonably warm for January, the skies a deep cloudless periwinkle. As I rounded the corner, the church bells began to peal. Blue sky and exuberant bells collided in my senses, ringing in my heart that today is a new day, a new beginning. As I watched a faithful few stream thinly towards the church, I was called to worship. I may not worship in that building, at that time, standing next to the woman with a grand-daughter in a matching pink coat on each side of her. But I worship(ed) nevertheless.