September 18, 2026

The other morning, I was putting away laundry when I came across a tiny little sock - clearly one of my now-grown kids' newborn socks -  in the back of one of my dresser drawers. Immediately, I returned to all those mornings I'd spent putting tiny socks on tiny feet, and tucking little arms and legs into warm buntings. For a moment, I was back there with all of the gummy smiles and squishy cheeks, favorite books and blankets, late nights rocking babies. This impossibly little sock brought it all back. 

I thought for a quick second about putting the sock in the rag pile, but of course I couldn't bring myself to do that. Instead, I returned it to the back of the drawer, where I intend for it to stay forever: some part of my kids always little, some part of me always that young mom - my hands full, but my heart full of gratitude for those gummy smiles.

It struck me how the most ordinary things can hold for us the people we love, or precious moments we'd thought were long past. A tiny sock. A familiar song. A place or a smell or a sound. The smallest thing can bring us right back to a cherished time, place, or person. Or maybe the time, place, or person, never really leave us: we just need the reminder that they're still there. And maybe that's one way to think of God: a sacred presence, tucked into the everyday moments of our lives, reminding us of the love we already know.

My prayer for you this week is for the love you already know to find you, out past time and space and laundry piles.

September 11, 2026

On September 11, 2001, I was sitting at my desk on the top floor of the Minnesota Department of Transportation Building, adjacent to the State Capitol. My desk phone rang - no one had cell phones! - and when I answered, my husband - who never called me at work! - said, "I'm watching the morning news and they said a plane hit the World Trade Center." I pictured a little private plane with an inexperienced pilot, but my "How sad" turned to "Oh no!" when William went on to say it was a commercial jet. William was a commercial airline pilot at the time and though he was safely at home, he had many pilot friends. We were going down the list of people we wanted to check on when he gasped and said, "Another plane just hit." A clammy awareness washed over me and I said, "That's not an accident, then." He said, "No."

We sat in silence while he watched on tv and I kept the phone glued to my ear.

For those who remember, I don't have to tell you how eerie the day was. It was surreal to hear my unflappable and always stoic boss tell my suit-mate and I to move into the conference room so we weren't sitting by the window - would the Capitol Building be hit? - and to see coworkers huddled around the television that had been wheeled in, with their hands over their faces. As horror unfolded, people started going home, one by one to hug loved ones. William and I spent much of the afternoon and evening trying to reach my brother-in-law, who had been set to fly out of Boston that morning (he was safe, though stuck in Boston for the next three days), and our dear friends who worked at One Liberty Plaza, directly across from the WTC. Well into the night we learned they were physically safe - they had walked back to Brooklyn from Manhattan - but saw unspeakable things at the towers that morning.

If you're old enough to remember, you, too, know exactly where you were, too. You remember that perfectly blue sky, the waiting for news, the eerie silence when planes were grounded. You may also remember the feeling of love, compassion, and connection to one another that we all experienced in the days right after. That sacred bit of time when we were just a bit more gentle with one another. A bit more kind. Those few days when we were more careful about checking in with each other; more careful with each others hearts. Life felt more precious.

I wonder if part of God's dream for us is that we understand that each day we're alive here on Earth, our lives are bound up with each other's. That each day could be treated as a sacred bit of time we have to be more gentle with one another's hearts. My prayer for each of us, this week and always, is the flip side of Never Forget. it's to Always Remember. Honor the pain and loss, of course. But remember, and live, the love.

September 4, 2026

My husband and I were recently on one of our favorite walks by the Mississippi River when a gaggle of geese came flying overhead, honking away. "Nooo," I said, "I'm not ready for the geese to be flying south yet!" My husband laughed and said, "How do you know where they're going?"

It's a quote from one of our favorite movies: Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. In the scene, John Candy and Steve Martin are driving in a car, going the wrong way down the highway. Another car tries to get their attention by yelling, "You're going the wrong way!" John Candy looks at Steve Martin and says, "How do they know where we're going?!" William and I quote variations on this line to each other all the time. Example:

ME: The garbage needs to go out tonight.

HIM: How do you know where the garbage is going?

Comedians we are not, but I did laugh at "How do you know where the geese are going?" because his point was on target. I love summer, and I'm always a bit sad when leaves start to turn, or geese fly south. But the truth is, I didn't know where those geese were going. My mind settled on my "worst case scenario" (relatively speaking) and decided to run with it.

“Do not be afraid,” or some variation thereof, appears in the Bible over 100 times. Clearly, a message about maintaining our inner peace, regardless of what transpires in our lives or in the world, has been needed since the beginning of time. It is easier said than done. We look at any number of situations and think, “I know where this is going." We fill in the blanks, imagine the worst, and mistake our fears for facts. Faith asks us to leave a little room for not knowing.

The geese may have been flying south. They may have been flying north. For all I know, they were just out for an evening adventure. Seasons are always changing, the world is always changing, and all we can really do is trust that whatever unfolds next will bring with it some spark of the Divine.

My prayer for you this week is that when you find yourself thinking, “I know where this is going,” you'll pause, take a breath, and leave a little room for God to surprise you.

August 28, 2026

I was sitting in my office at church early Tuesday afternoon when Corinne came in to share the news that Dolly Parton had died. I was surprised at how sad I felt. I’ve long admired Dolly Parton. Certainly for her musical talent and ability to entertain, but even more for her enormous heart. Dolly always seemed to lead with kindness, and consistently offered unconditional support to people across racial, generational, socio-economic, political, and LGBTQ+ divides. She was passionate about encouraging people to be themselves without fear of judgment, and she walked the talk by always being unapologetically herself. There were many ways she generously gave financially as well: donating donating millions toward HIV/AIDS research at a time when most public figures remained silent about that, further millions children's cancer research, millions toward other healthcare programs for children, and later millions toward coronavirus vaccine research, just to name a few.

And, of course, there is the wonderful Imagination Library, the organization Dolly founded which sends books each month to children from birth to age five, free of charge. The program is available to children everywhere, with no registration requirements. Audio and braille books are even sent, as needed. My own nieces and nephew receive these books, and for a long time, Dolly's own book, Coat of Many Colors, was my youngest niece's favorite. Remy would ask us to listen to her read the book, which she had memorized, and then get up and perform the song by the same name, over and over, twirling with her favorite doll - the one she named "Dolly Parton". (Always referred to with first and last name!) This alone gives me a soft spot for Imagination Library, but knowing that Remy is one of millions of children who have received books - over 200 million books given away so far - makes it even more wonderful.

From everything I've ever heard or read, Dolly Parton's public kindness and generosity was authentic, and she was the same person behind the scenes as she was in the spotlight. There aren't many people in the world who've had the impact she had, and even fewer who were loved across all lines of difference. Any which way I look at it, Dolly seemed to live out the teachings of Jesus as well as anyone I've seen. I can imagine her welcomed through the gates of heaven with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven harmonizing a rousing chorus of "Well done!" with banjo accompaniment.

My prayer for all of us this week is that we can find our own unique ways to live out Jesus' teachings; find our own ways to move humanity one step closer to the world God dreams of. Just like Dolly.

August 21, 2026

Nothing particularly memorable happened this week. Yesterday, for example: I woke up, grabbed a little breakfast, went into church, had a few meetings, did some fall planning, went to the grocery store, threw in a pizza for dinner (no salad because, you know...), and then my husband and I went for a walk and read books.

And, this week was full of blessings:

Yesterday, for example: I woke up to sunny skies and birds singing outside my window. There was fresh fruit and yogurt for breakfast, and one of my kids had even started the dishwasher before bed last night, so clean bowls were waiting! My drive into church is short and simple, and turning into the church grounds always brings me a feeling of peace; appreciative of the beauty of our space and of those who care for our grounds so lovingly. I got to meet with people I enjoy and admire, and got to dream about different ways our community can share time together, love our neighbors, and grow together this fall. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home and was able to buy food to nourish my family. We tried a new type of pizza for dinner, and dressed it up with our favorite toppings. William and I went for a long post-dinner walk and then dove into our books.

The same day, two different takes. I can easily fall into the first take, when I'm not paying enough attention. And the first take is fine, but I wonder if "fine" has us missing the little miracles all around us. Maybe holiness isn't reserved for extraordinary days, and we just need to open our eyes - and our hearts - to that more often.

My prayer for you this week is that you had some moments of realization that God was present in every little moment of your day: a small beauty in the world, a kindness from someone you encountered, an interesting conversation, an errand that went smoothly and saw you safely home. My prayer is for moments of beauty, and glimpses of God, wherever you find yourself.

August 14, 2026

The company from which Saint Anne's purchased our new AED device let us know that the device would need to be checked monthly to ensure it remained in good working order. I made a little joke to Andy, our service representative, about being grateful for the calendar app on my phone, because otherwise, months from now, I’d suddenly remember that I’d forgotten to check it - and the stress of realizing that would cause me to need the AED. Andy got my (weak) joke, but then he said, "Actually, I'm a church-goer myself and I understand how hard it can be to track all the little things. How about this: as part of my tithe toward the work of the church, I'll stop by around the first of each month and check on it. I can't promise I'll do it forever, but my office is close to here and I'll do it for now. Free of charge" After a few seconds of wondering whether it would be more difficult to need to coordinate times with him each month, I accepted, and told him that I appreciated his above-and-beyond offer.

Though it was nice not to have another reminder on my calendar, even a small one, the nicest part of Andy’s kind offer has been the unexpected gift of our AED service representative becoming a Friend of Saint Anne’s. True to his word, Andy has come each month since he installed the AED. He now knows our general office hours and stops by without an appointment. When he does, he always has a pleasant word to offer - he comments on how our Neighbor’s Inc. donations are growing, or compliments our gardens and grounds. When he noticed something on our wall was loose, he offered to tighten it, since he had his tools with him anyway.

Andy is genuinely nice person, and it makes the world seem a little smaller and more friendly when “a service rep” becomes someone who takes the time to get to know us - and we, him. Maybe this is one of the ways God works: not always through grand gestures or dramatic moments, but through ordinary people who show up, pay attention, and make themselves available to one another. And a good reminder of the ripples we create when we choose to live in generosity and abundance.

My prayer for you is that you notice the ways God’s generosity shows up in the ordinary moments of your life - that we can be both givers and receivers of these gifts.

August 7, 2026

We survived the wedding!

More than survived, actually: it was a beautiful, joyful, day full of love, Spirit, and celebration. William and I, along with the bride and groom, are grateful for your prayers and well-wishes. Frequently asked questions: Did we finish our yard? Yes! Barely, but we did. However, Mother Nature had the audacity to rain for the Night Before party, so we pivoted. The Night Before party was moved inside and we held a Morning After brunch in our yard instead. The stream was well admired. Did I officiate? Yes! Quite an honor. Did I cry? I did not! Mostly because I was wearing false eyelashes (!! proof that there is a first time for everything) and the make-up artist who attended to the wedding party told me if I cried, they would fall off. Apparently the threat of that embarrassment served its purpose and kept the tears at bay. That and the fact that I was smiling too big to cry.

My prayer for you this week is for tender moments in your life that bring tears just under the surface - but a Spirit-filled joy that overrides them. (And may your eyelashes always stay in place!)

July 31, 2026

Many of you have asked how I'm doing, and if we're ready, for my son Aidan's wedding this upcoming weekend. Here is how I can best describe it. Last week when I was leaving church, I walked out to the parking lot to find this:

Yes, that is my car. Yes, I parked between two spots. Yes, I left the door open the entire time I was at church. It's a perfect symbol of how I feel right now - all wonky and no free hands!

I am also very grateful for this joyful moment for our family. Life is always full of twists and turns, without always knowing where they will lead. This wedding has given us many opportunities to pause and give thanks for the journey that led here, and recognize the spark of the Divine in it all. I do not take these special times for granted. I do not take your prayers and well-wishes for granted, either. Thank you, for each and every one, for all of the offers to help in any way. If one of you could make sure my car door is shut when I go into church?

My prayer for you this week is for a marker or milestone along your journey that gives you a chance to pause and give thanks. A moment of sacredness in the hustle and bustle of life. I also pray that if you accidentally park wonky and leave your car door open, you at least do it in the church parking lot, where no one will judge!

July 24, 2026

Around our celebration of the Feast of Saint Anne each year, I always find myself reflecting on our community. Of course, our beautiful, healing, peaceful grounds are a blessing - I am thankful for our woods, gardens, outdoor chapel, sanctuary, and all of the spaces we use in so many ways. But you are the true gift. Walking with all of you through the changes and chances of this life continues to be one of my greatest honors and greatest joys.

Thank you, each one of you, for sharing your presence, your gifts, your hearts, your faith, your struggles, your questions, your interests, and your lives with me and with the Saint Anne's community. It's rare, and it's sacred, to have a community like ours to call ours.

My prayer this week, and every week, is that you know that Saint Anne's would not be Saint Anne's without you. Yes, you!

July 17, 2026

I have a confession to make. I really love this hot weather. For some reason, hot and humid is where I thrive. I find myself with more energy these days, and while others are not venturing out, I am sitting outside - by choice! - as I write this to you. The same way I cannot relate when others say the cold and crisp weather is what they wait for all year, I understand that most people, at least in Minnesota, cannot relate to me in this.

It makes me smile to think about how the very same day can feel so different to each of us. The same sun sends one person searching for AC and another out for a walk. Neither is right or wrong; they're simply different ways of being alive. Maybe the things that make each of us come alive are little clues to the unique spark of the Divine we each carry.

It's true in our spiritual lives, too. Some encounter God in silence, others in singing. Some live out their faith in acts service, others in prayer. Some feel the presence of the Creator on mountaintops, or out on a fishing boat. Others in gardens, or around a table with friends. None are better or worse; just different ways to feel the presence of something holy. As I enjoy these hot July days, I'm grateful for the reminder that our Trinity - which is diversity in and of itself! - is far too creative to express the Divine in only one way.

My prayer for you this week is to notice the simple places where the presence of the Divine meets you, whether that's in the heat of the sun, the shade of a tree, or in the company of a friend. And I pray you find something each day to delight in; whatever it is that helps you feel most fully alive. Even if no one else agrees with you!

July 10, 2026

I logged on to Facebook this week under Saint Anne's account to post something or check something, I can't remember exactly what I was doing. But when I am logged in under Saint Anne's account, there are a large number of different church accounts that pop up as You Might Be Interested In.... One such post that came up was from another "Saint Anne's Church". They, sadly, had shared the news of the death of their priest,  whose name happened to be...Jennifer. "Saint Anne's is sad to report that or priest, Jennifer, died earlier this week, surrounded by loved ones." It caused me to do a double-take, that's for certain! The priest looked to be close to my age, as well. Honestly, it was a little eerie.

I've thought about that post several times this week. I've offered prayers for this other Jennifer, and for our siblings in Christ at this other Saint Anne's community, as they navigate their loss. I've also reflected on the fact that we just never know what life will bring. What if that had been me? One day it will be. Have I lived the life I've wanted to live, thus far? Have I been I kind enough, open enough, appreciative enough, generous enough? 

We never know how long we have to be all God calls us to be: to share kindnesses, to delight in the world, to take some chances, to make a difference to someone, to laugh and to forgive and to be grateful as often as possible. I suppose it could be put this way: Life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who walk the way with us... Of course, our faith teaches that there is much more to come after our earthy journeys, and I believe that. But for right now, the here and now is important, too. It mattered to Jesus, and matters to us.

My prayer for you this week is that you have for all of the above in the coming week and beyond: time to share a kindnesses, delight in the world, take a chance, make a difference, laugh, forgive, and be grateful as often as possible. My prayer is for you to sense God in each step you take. I do believe that is enough.

June 19, 2026

Our little dog Roger woke me up a few nights ago by pawing at my shoulder over and over again. When I finally woke up enough to pay attention, I could see he was shaking. I assumed it was thunder or fireworks, both usually send him into distress, and tried all the usual tricks to calm him down. Nothing worked. Eventually, I fell back asleep with a still-shaking Roger at my side.

The next day, we discovered the cause: a smoke detector with a low battery. BEEP. We removed the battery. A few minutes later: BEEP. We removed the battery from a different smoke detector. But then: BEEP. Then we were on a scavenger hunt through the house, trying to track down the source. Eventually we had removed every battery from every smoke detector in our house. BEEP. This is when we learned that smoke detectors store enough juice to keep beeping for a while, even after the battery is removed. Who knew?!

It's a wonderful feature for humans. Pretty awful for dogs.

Isn't that just how life goes? Something that is useful, enjoyable, or reassuring for me can be stressful, confusing, or even painful for someone else. The same beep that told me a smoke detector was doing its job was, for Roger, an unexplained source of fear. It made me wonder how often I assume everyone experiences the world the same way I do.

One of the things Jesus tries most to impress on us is to pay attention. To notice the world, and the people, around us. To listen. To be patient when someone reacts differently than we would. Roger couldn't explain what was wrong that night, all he could do was keep pawing at me. But I'm glad he didn't give up. He reminded me that paying attention is one of the most simple forms of love. Loving our neighbors isn't usually about having answers for someone else's distress, it's more about listening long enough to hear what someone else is experiencing. From there, maybe we can help - or maybe we can go on a scavenger hunt with them to figure out what the problem is. Either way, they aren't alone.

My prayer for you this week is for the time and patience to listen well. And when you find yourself carrying a burden or a fear you can't quite put into words for the people around you, may you remember that God hears it all so much more clearly than we do. Either way, you are never alone.

June 12, 2026

It has been a wild and wonderful week at Summer Stretch 2026 with some fantastic young Saint Annians. As always, our week focused on Micah 6:8: "What does the Lord require of you? Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly". We threw a good sprinkling of The Good Samaritan in throughout the week as well. We spent time at church discussing these issues and the real-life challenges they bring up, and then went out into the world to practice living them. And, wow, do our Saint Anne's youth rise to the occasion, each and every time. There are some thoughtful, caring, passionate, theologically-minded, joyful, capable, amazing, young people in our midst. Not to mention our amazing counselors: Myles, Ramona, and Tessa, and RaeKell, our rock star Director of Children & Youth. What a blessing, what a joy. Lucky me, and lucky us!

June 5, 2026

Only two weeks in, and summer at Saint Anne's is in full swing. The Garden Club is busy planting, weeding, and watering, the lawn mowers are busy mowing, Altar Guild is busy setting up in the outdoor chapel, the Parade-Marchers are getting ready to toss candy, and we're getting ready to sponsor a Pride booth in WSP again. Plans are in place for house gatherings, bonfires, and kickball games. People are riding bikes to church, and the new playground is getting good use. Saint Anne's has a full calendar of weddings and other gatherings, and Summer Stretch is on the horizon. My desk is a mess and I am terribly behind on emails. Summertime, and the living is busy! 

I don't take a minute of the immense privilege of all of the above for granted. In the middle of this rich goodness, I am also praying deeply for those in our community, and in my wider world who are going through difficult times. Add in prayers for our world right now, and I'm doing a lot of praying. Another immense privilege.

I can't pretend to know how it all works. How God can hold the joys and the struggles, the busy-ness and the need for rest, the life and the death of it all, in the same tenderness. I can't pretend to know how the earliest Psalm was written in 1400 BCE and yet still feels relevant today, how Jesus' teachings can still guide us, daily, or how we can still feel the push of Spirit leading us into new things. I only know that I am grateful for every blessing, and trying to learn to be grateful for every struggle. Because it's all part of the same beauty-full life, and on we go.

My prayer for you this week for time to do and time to be. My prayer is that you feel yourself held in God's tenderness in the busy-ness and the rest, in the joys and the struggles.

May 29, 2026

I was recently invited to participate in a survey of Episcopal churches across the country described as “bounce-back” communities. These are churches whose membership has bounced back or grown since the pandemic. At Saint Anne's, it has been a joy to welcome new members and renewed energy post-COVID, and I was looking forward to sharing our experience. But the survey questions were not what I expected. There were questions about how long someone is expected to be a member before participating in aspects of community life beyond Sunday mornings - is there a requirement before showing up as part of the garden crew, or coming to a book study or game night, for example. And questions about membership and church doctrine that didn't seem to line up with the ethos of the Episcopal Church, including whether someone who does not fully subscribe to the Nicene Creed may participate in church ministries. 

I found myself wondering what assumptions about a church community these questions reflected. I also found myself wishing I had different questions to answer. I wanted questions that would allow me to accurately paint a picture of a community like ours, where authentic, messy, presence with one another is one of our highest values, and discussions over differences in beliefs is joyful and enriching.

What would be really neat, I thought, was if everyone had been asked to share a Mary Oliver poem that reflected the community the priest was writing about. Is that very niche? Yes. Would it be fun? Also yes! If that question had been asked, I would have shared, on Saint Anne's behalf, the Mary Oliver masterpieceThe Summer Day:

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Of course the line "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" is the most well-known part of this poem, and it is beautifully evocative. But my favorite lines are: "I don't know exactly what prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass..."

We don't all think alike at Saint Anne's. We might not all subscribe to the creeds of the church in the same way. We might not even attend church for the same reasons, and chances are pretty good that each of us prays in our own way. But we do pay attention - to each other, to the world around us, to Spirit, to the way our own spark of the Divine glitters in the sun. And somehow it all works out.

My prayer for you this week is to have some time to fall down into (or at least look at!) the grass, to be idle and feel blessed - and to know that this - no requirements, no hoops, just authentic presence - can be prayer, creed, and belonging all rolled into one, if you'd like it to be.

May 22, 2026

Recently, my husband and I took advantage of a coupon we had for a company called Urban Adventure Quest and went on a scavenger hunt on the Capitol grounds in St. Paul. Now, I've been to the Capitol grounds more times than I can count; I worked in the Capitol complex for almost a decade. But Urban Adventure Quest taught us a lot about the history honored there that we hadn't known, or noticed, before.

Of everything we learned and saw that day, one area continues to find space in my heart: "Story Stones". Story Stones is located within the Minnesota Military Families Tribute and is a garden made of large stones, on which was etched a sentence or two from a letters between soldier from Minnesota and their families back home. The letters encompass time periods from WWI, WWII, and Vietnam, and the messages back and forth were beautiful and heartbreaking:

"I'll have lots to talk about when I get home. I wish I knew when that was."

"Grandma, can you please send some candy and fruit? All we get are C-rations."

"I know Grandma and the rest of you were terribly worried when you received the "Missing in Action" notice, but I'm alright."

"Mom, don't cry, I'm coming home!"

_____

Loved ones. Small comforts. Longing for home. Longing to know our people are safe. We all just want the same things, across generations, across political lines, across race, religion, creed. It's all God dreams for us as well: peace, comfort, and safety for all. It baffles me that it continues to be so elusive. 

It also baffles me that I'd been on the Capitol grounds many times since the installation of this exhibit in 2015, and had never seen it before. It took a coupon for a game to point me in the right direction. Go figure. But I am grateful to have seen it, and I will be back many times. I invite you to go as well. It is free, always open, and powerful.

My prayer for you this week is for time to appreciate the gifts right in front of you, whether that be the small comforts of home, the ability to hug a loved one, or the surprise of something beautiful that you hadn't known was there all along. My prayer for all of us this Memorial Day weekend is that we continue the work God has put in front of all of us: to work for a world of peace and safety for all, and that it may one day come to be.

May 15, 2026

Is it just me, or does this feel like an especially beautiful spring?

Maybe after the winter we had, someone, somewhere, decided to shower us with a few extra blessings. Or maybe it's that after a difficult span of time, the little joys begin to feel like big joys. Either way, noticing little joys all around us is a pretty wonderful spiritual practice. It is actually the way the Tuesday Morning Prayer group at Saint Anne's starts every gathering: "What is your small joy today?" It is amazing how even hearing the small joys of others can lift our moods and help us notice Spirit in the world around us. 

I guess Jesus was onto something when he told us to take note of the wildflowers, celebrate the tiny mustard seed, and not underestimate the importance of finding even just one lost sheep. Smart guy, that one.

The blue sky, sunshine, and colors bursts everywhere; the blessing of the playground last Sunday; working with our youth preachers on the (outstanding) sermons they'll offer this week; a notice from the library that a book I've been waiting for is in - these are just a few small joys I've been noticing in the last week. What are yours? Email me and let me know! 

My prayer for you this week is to find an abundance of little joys all around you. Enough little joys to add up to a heart-full.

May 8, 2026

A few years ago, when Saint Anne's Vestry was engaging in our first Dreams and Visions brainstorming session, one intangible that kept coming up was "become more of a community resource and hub". We weren't sure exactly what that would look like, or how to achieve that goal, but the idea of growing in relationship with the community outside our walls kept tugging at us. Without knowing what it would lead to, staff, Vestry leadership, the Peace & Justice team, and various other ministry areas, began to intentionally build connections and relationships in our wider area. We met with school social workers to learn more about what they do and what they need, and local organizations doing good work, to see how we might be able to support them. We reached out whenever we saw a community group looking for space or other needs. If it was at all possible, we said yes to everything that came our way: offering our indoor and outdoor space for use, hosting school supply drives and other special collections, and offered donations and support, as we could, to various groups. We started participating in local parades, and offered support for the local PRIDE festival. We built and installed a Little Free Library. Even just sharing local needs and activities in the Announcer has been an intentional practice. It has been joyful, time-consuming, hopeful, challenging, and downright fun to put ourselves out there in every way we can.

Our efforts have resulted in stronger connections to our local schools, better awareness of - and ability to support - other local non-profits, and increased use of our building as a gathering place, including our partnerships with the WSP Rotary Club, which meets at Saint Anne's every Wednesday, and with the Spanish School. This week at Saint Anne's was a busy one, but not atypical: we've hosted a baby shower for local family, an annual board meeting for a local organization, and an Aspen House event, loaned tables out to a local non-profit, were contacted by a local school for a need they had, provided space for Spanish classes, and (today!) are hosting another Blood Drive. This week we've also installed our new playground, which local families as well as Saint Anne's families enjoy, and are expanding our outdoor chapel, to be able to be even more welcoming to all. Our church is a busy, bustling place!

All of the busy-ness is one part "whew!", and many parts wonderful. To have local groups reach out and say, "We've heard you're the ones to call", is exactly what we dreamed of. We hope these relationships and our connections outside our walls only continue to grow. Thank you for being people who support YES as our first response and then support that by being flexible, by being problem-solvers, and by never getting bent out of shape about juggling space, time, and resources. My prayer for you this week is to know that your light shines not only in every corner of Saint Anne's, but also out into the world. My prayer is for you to know that your care, compassion, generosity, and willingness to throw the doors open, literally and figuratively, is a beacon to so many people in search of some kindness in this world. Each YES! you offer makes a difference, and oh, the difference you make.

May 1, 2026

When I was growing up, I somehow stumbled upon the tradition, really more of a superstition, of saying "Rabbit, Rabbit", aloud just before going to bed on the last day of the month, and then saying it again first thing upon waking up on the first day of the new month. As the superstition goes, doing this will ensure good fortune for the entire month. Years ago, I would leave myself little notes to remember, but it's engrained now, and somehow, my mind just remembers to do this, more often than not. To avoid any disappointment you may feel as you read this mid-morning on May 1, too late to try it this month, I will offer full disclosure: I have never actually noticed any difference between the months I say, "Rabbit, Rabbit" and the ones I have not. But I do feel secretly pleased with myself when I remember, so maybe that counts for something? 

Little rituals like this have a way of sticking. Maybe because they give us a small sense of control in a world that is largely beyond our control. Or maybe because, somewhere deep down, we still half-believe that life might be somehow keeping score, and if we just present the right offering, we can tilt things a little bit in our favor. Superstitions can feel almost like a small bargain with uncertainty or fear: I’ll do this, and maybe the universe will do that.

I think it can be easy to consider faith like that, sometimes. If I go to church, then God will_____ If I pray just the right prayer, God will_____. 

That would be easier, wouldn't it? It would at least help us know what to do when things aren't going as we'd like them to go. But, I'm pretty sure God is not actually a cosmic vending machine or a keeper of hidden rules waiting to trip us up. God is connection. God is deep peace. God is the essence of goodness that meets us whether we remembered the right words or not. Goodness all around us, whether the month begins with a secret handshake or just like any other morning. I think the real invitation might be to wake up on any day of any month and just notice with gratitude: I am here. I am held in love. I am part of something good and called to be present to that goodness in everything I do. 

My prayer for you this week is to wake up each morning with the knowledge that you are wrapped in all the goodness the world has to offer - no strings attached. Happy May Day!

April 24, 2026

One of the things my mother-in-law and I had in common, in addition to a fondness for her son, was a love for beachcombing. Her house in northern California was 45 minutes from Stinson Beach, which always has interesting beachcombing, and every time we visited we'd spend time there. In her later years, it was difficult for her to walk on the sand, but she would cheer on my efforts from her beach chair. After I would return from my walk up and down the shoreline, she would eagerly ask, "Did you find any treasures?". She would then exclaim with me over pretty rocks and shells, colorful pieces of sea glass, and the most wonderful treasure of all: sand dollars. We always found one or two on our visits to Stinson Beach.

I am writing to you right now from northern California. We're here for my mother in law's burial, and an opportunity to celebrate her life in the places she loved so dearly. We paid a visit to Stinson Beach today, and as William made some phone calls to finalize arrangements, I went beachcombing, with my mother in law on my mind. She, like me, was always careful not to disturb live sand dollars, and I passed up a few before I spotted my first "not-alive" one of the day. As I picked it up, I marveled at how even after death, sand dollars offer beauty. They do not need to be present in body, to be present in spirit. And even after they're gone, they bring joy and wonder. It's quite a legacy.

As it happened, I ended up finding not just one, and not just two, but 14 sand dollar "shells" today, and saw at least 14 other live ones that I said hello to as I kept walking. As we left the beach, I thanked my mother in law for the treasures, and smiled up at the sun.

My prayer for you this week is to find legacies of beauty all around you.