I saw recently that "Toy Story 3" is up for an Oscar. For those of you who have not seen this movie, and plan to do so, read no further. My daughter gave her dad the Toy Story Trio for the holiday, so we've seen it recently.

There is a scene toward the end of the movie where several of the toys have somehow ended up at the dump. This is a fear of all toys, that they will not be treasured any more and they are thrown away. After they arrive at the dump, they are poured into a heap that is slowly but inexorably moving downwards towards the fire that will destroy them all. You can see it on their faces: they know that although they have somehow squeaked through many other near-disasters, there is no escape this time. There is anguish... and then acceptance. And then... then one holds out his hand, and it is held. The second one holds out her hand, and it is held. On and on, till they are all holding hands on the way to destruction. And they continue to fall downwards towards the fire.

This scene reminded me of a story I heard at the UU Church some time back. We had a guest minister who talked about the concentration camps of WWII. There was a priest or minister who was found sheltering Jewish children and he was given a choice. He could be a prisoner, or he could go to his death with the children in the gas chamber. He chose the children. He must have worried about their fear, and he led them singing. Singing.

We all heard what happened in Tuscon, AZ a few weeks ago. I heard that when both Christina Taylor-Green and her friend, Suzi Hileman were both shot, they held hands.

There is something very powerful about connections, whether it's through touch, or voice, or a look.

Connect. It's a blessing.