When little Logan came up with the primary kids and leaned against the step stool and banged and banged it against the podium as he sang, I felt the spirit.
When the choir sang about looking for Jesus to come, to the manger, to the wounded, and to the world today, I felt it again.
When Brother Anderson told us about the special Christmas he spent in the mission field almost 50 years ago with the poor widow with her 20 years of tithing saved in a jar in her closet, I felt the warmth yet again.
When my women friends talked about ways to get our houses in order, there it was.
Gathering does it for me. I know this about myself. I need that quiet alone time, but I am a gatherer, whether as a leader of other gatherers, or just as a gatherer myself. I need people. I need to have things rub off on me. I need to look in eyes other than my own.