December 23, 2022

This photo of the Saint Anne's kids at the Christmas pageant last week has become my new favorite:

Each time I look at this photo, I notice something new. Every single person in this photo is doing something different: looking their own direction, focused on their own role or daydreaming, or playing peek-a-boo with Baby Jesus. There's a giraffe in the scene, for unknown reasons (it remained there for the entire service), off-scene we have our director trying to coordinate sheep, and our musicians coordinating lyrics. There would be two more shepherds who would join the scene later, jumping right in as if they were born for the role, and there's a star shining above it all.

A beautiful, holy, chaos. Holy, joy-filled, chaos. Could the very first Christmas night have been much different?!

May your Christmas be full of holy chaos as well. May you try to get Baby Jesus' to smile, may you get lost in your own thoughts, may unexpected animal friends show up sometimes to keep you company. May music be playing in your background. May you see something new every time you look out into the world - may you see God anew, everywhere you look.

December 16, 2022

I have been unreasonably crabby and impatient as I go about my days lately. I have been joyful and excited about the Christmas Pageant and Solstice Service, and the return of my daughter from college, and I've been marveling at the beauty of snowfall. I've also been missing the sunshine, missing my Grandma, annoyed at slogging through mushy parking lots as I run errands, feeling weary from the rush-rush-rush of the days tumbling over one another, uninspired about Christmas presents, and every time I get a free minute, I'm turning my house inside out trying to find the (missing) baby Jesus from the creche my parents brought me from Jerusalem years ago.

Hrumph.

In trying to shake the Grinch loose, I reprogrammed all my XM radio presets to Christmas stations, and was immediately treated to my all-time favorite Christmas hymn: O Holy Night. I took the entire 5 minutes of the song to sit in my car in the church parking lot and let its peace soak into my soul. When I mentioned to a friend how grounded I felt after hearing the song, she directed me to a recent and beautiful article by Lutheran pastor Nadia Botz-Weber, about O Holy Night. Here is an excerpt:
 

     So fall on your knees.

     Fall on your knees before a God who Mary bore into this       
     world as delicate unprotected, unarmed, defenseless, lowly     
     flesh. Fall on your knees before the one who loves without
     caution, without measure, without concern for pre-existing
     conditions. Fall on your knees before a God in whose grace
     you can relax and try less hard and know that your flawed,
     imperfect, lumpy self is so totally loved and worthy to be loved.

     And in this season of over consumption and unmet
     expectations - in this season of family obligations and “I should
     feel happier than I do” or “I’m deeply happy and don’t feel like I
     can share that since so many people are miserable” in this
     season of loneliness and warmth and cookies and toxic
     nostalgia and having way too many people around, in this
     season of the very longest nights - may your soul feel its
     worth.

     And when the regret and grief about your errors creeps in, be
     gentle and maybe just congratulate yourself for being
     someone in whom God’s grace is at work. 

  
Now, I don't know exactly how to shake my current crabbiness entirely (never mind finding baby Jesus!), but I do know how to fall to my knees. So I'll keep doing that, and will do my best to remember that my flawed, imperfect self is still worthy. My prayer for you this week is that you feel the same - hopefully without as much slog to get there. But any way you arrive, on this Fourth Sunday of Advent, may your soul feel its worth. 

December 9, 2022

One of our readings for this coming Sunday is from Isaiah. It's a beautiful passage, describing in joy-full terms what it will look (and feel and sound) like here on Earth when the kingdom of God reigns. When Love is finally at the center of all we do, Peace falls like rain, and Joy blooms like spring fields. There is a line in the Psalm about this beautiful, vibrant, new world that has captured my imagination all week: 

A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way

I'm not sure what it is about that imagery - maybe the part of me that loves road trips -  but it draws me in and thrills me. So open and wild and free. An adventure! At the same time, so welcoming, sure, and delightful. A comfortably familiar passage. A road where the final destination remains the same, but the journey itself is a winding, sacred path, leading in and out, up and down, here and there. Surprises around every corner, brining you to a place you've always known.

Wherever this highway is, count me in.  Wanna come?

December 2, 2022

Dear Ones,

Several years ago, about this time of year, I was driving in my car when inspiration struck for THE Christmas Eve Sermon I just knew I had to preach. Since I was not able to stop and write down my (brilliant!) thoughts, I decided to text myself via voice text. "Hey Siri! Text me!", I called out. "What do you want to text to Me?", Siri replied. I began sharing my (brilliant!) thoughts on THE Christmas Eve Sermon I just knew I had to preach. I talked to Siri, texting myself, for a solid three minutes.

My (brilliant!) pondering was around the idea that we are each Mary, in the Christmas story. "YOU are Mary!", I voice-texted. "YOU are at the center of something new about to be born. YOU are giving birth to the Christ Child."

I went on. And on. Getting all of my thoughts out before I lost them. Yes, this would be THE Christmas Eve sermon; the one to inspire people everywhere. About 15 minutes later, having arrived at my destination, I received a new text alert. I thought it would be the marathon text I just sent to myself. It was not. It was one simple sentence in response to my marathon text from a few minutes earlier:

I think you have the wrong number.

I have no idea who I texted that day. All I know is some poor unsuspecting soul was just going about their day when suddenly they received the longest text in the world, proclaiming "YOU are giving birth to the Christ Child!" I am so sorry, poor, unsuspecting stranger.

I did not, as it turned out, preach THE Christmas Eve sermon that year. I couldn't do it without laughing. But this Advent, I bring the question to you. Perhaps we are not all Mary. But we are with her, every year at this time. Preparing, waiting, for new Light and new Hope to be born once again into a tired and hurting world. What role do you play this year, in ushering in all that can be? What is your role in the kingdom of God, waiting to be born? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to text me. ;)

November 18, 2022

When I walked into the Sanctuary last Sunday morning before the 8:30 service, the Altar Guild team was already there. As I entered, they called out, "Nothing to see here!" and "Don't worry, it's all under control!" Then one of the team walked by with a bucket. I had no idea what was going on, but their laughter was contagious. And there is nothing like laughing your head off with fellow Saint Annians while getting ready for church at 8 AM.

• When it was discovered quite last minute before a service last week that there was no bread for communion, a community member didn't hesitate for a second, but zipped out to the store. When she returned with bread a few minutes before the service started, the story of how she actual secured the bread seemed divinely inspired.
  

• When the dishwashers were full following our beloved Hadley's funeral last week, still-to-be-cleaned dishes were left in the sink, with the intention by the luncheon team leader to return the next day and finish up. Upon returning to church the next day, the team leader found the dishes had been done by a mystery dish washer.
  

• For the last few weeks, I've noticed that the rainbow hearts on our front lawn near the highway have been falling down. I've been thinking I should fix them, but hadn't actually done anything about it yet. Today when I got to church I noticed the hearts are all lined up again. Thank you heart-fixer, whoever you are!

These are just a few of the beautiful things that have unfolded in the last week. The Saint Anne's community is incredibly special and even though we havea whole weekbefore Thanksgiving, I see no reason to wait to say how thankful I am for our expression of the Body of Christ in the world.

My prayer for you this week is that you feel the love of the community that surrounds you. To find laughter in the mess, and divine timing at the grocery store. To remember that you are never alone and angels walk among us.

November 11, 2022

This has been a deeply tender period of time for many. The death of Saint Annian Hadley Bakker is a such a great loss and sadness for all who knew Hadley and Lori and their family. Some in our community are grieving other losses and navigating other difficult situations as well. Our communities and our nation just wrapped up another divisive and stressful election cycle. We are still figuring out how we are emerging from an unprecedented time of global pandemic. This is a tender time, in many ways.

Lori Bakker shared the following piece by Bishop Steven Charleston this week, and it feels just right for this moment:

Let us treat one another with a gentle touch, a hand of grace and comfort, for none of us knows what tomorrow may bring, and none of us is immune from what we least expect. All we know for certain is that our time to love is far too brief. The least we can do is provide a safe space for one another along the road of life, a place of understanding and support. We have that gift to offer, that quiet blessing to share, giving to others what we may need one day ourselves, a shelter from the storm.

My prayer for you this week is for you to have the opportunity to find, to share, and to be a hand of grace and comfort...a safe space along the road of life...a quiet blessing...for and with one another. This week - and always.

November 4, 2022

Can you hear them?

Can you hear them as they pass by? Can you feel them standing just beside you? They are the ones who have gone before, saints who have touched our lives. They are the family to which we belong, ancient and never ending. Our ancestors watch over us, their constant vigil keeping. Their wisdom surrounds us. Their healing a river through channels of time. Can you hear them? They speak of a love they have seen, love beyond imagining, love that holds us safe, until we rise to meet them.

The above was written by Bishop Steven Charleston, and I return to it again and again - on the Feasts of All Saints and Souls and on so many regular ol' days as well. That the ancestors are here, with us, guiding, guarding, celebrating, keeping vigil, is something I trust to the core of my being. I depend on the wisdom of the ancestors nearly as much as I depend on air and water. In these sacred days as we honor them, I am filled with gratitude - for those I knew, for those you knew, for those who we know only through the ancient stories. I am filled with awe at the connections we still share with them. Awe at the thinness of the veil, in these holy days.

Their wisdom surrounds us. Their healing a river through channels of time. Can you hear them? My prayer for you this week is that you can hear them - the saints of your lives, the Saints of our common life. That you can hear them, feel them, sense them around you. This great cloud of witnesses, offering wisdom, companionship, and cheering you on. Always cheering you on!

October 28, 2022

Your 2022 ECMN Delegates - Emilie Rexeisen and Joan Stovall - and Bob Furniss and I are at the ECMN Convention in Rochester this weekend, along with other Minnesota Episcopalians from near and far. We are connecting with old friends, meeting new ones, and engaging in and with the business and mission of the church. This is the first in-person ECMN Convention in three years.

One announcement that will be made at Convention is something I want to share with all of you: the Bishop will be appointing me as Vice-President of the ECMN Council for the next year, with the possibility of serving for up to three years. He invited me to consider accepting this role several months ago, and after prayer and discussion with the wardens (and my husband!) I said yes. The ECMN Council is somewhat like the Vestry of the ECMN. The Bishop is Council President and I will work with him in supporting the Council in the good work they do on behalf of the Episcopal Church in Minnesota. (This will in no way affect or take from my commitment to Saint Anne's.)

One reason I said yes is that I am inspired by the vision Bishop Loya has set forth for the Episcopal Church in Minnesota. The ECMN identity statement is: "We are one church in 104 locations, bound together by our commitment to follow the Way of Jesus, joining God in God’s project to heal the whole world with love." As for how we accomplish this, Bishop Loya encourages 4 approaches: 1. Discipleship: living into the teachings of Jesus as best we can. 2. Faithful Innovation: joining the Spirit in new ways to live out the Gospel. 3. Justice: becoming Beloved Community. 4. Congregational Vitality: thriving faith communities of all sizes in all places.

Over the course of the coming year, I hope to dig more deeply with you into some of these practices. I'd love to hear your ideas.

My prayer for you today is that you are able to appreciate the deep roots we have as Episcopalians. Our connections near and far to people from all different walks of life, including those who have gone before us, support us in sacred ways. We are better together, thanks be to God.

October 21, 2022

October 18th is The Feast of St. Luke on the church calendar. St. Luke is the Luke of Gospel fame, as in "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John". The same writer is believed to have written the Book of Acts. The story around Luke is that he was a physician. The truth is probably closer to the idea that there were several writers who contributed to this Gospel, any of whom may or may not have been physicians. But the writer(s) of the Gospel of Luke do emphasize the healing stories of Jesus, and the wide-reach of that healing. The Book of Common Prayer offers the following for the Feast of St. Luke:

Almighty God, who inspired your servant Luke the physician to set forth in the Gospel the love and healing power of your Son: Graciously continue in your Church this love and power to heal, to the praise and glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Several years ago, our own Richard Hemming taught me that the days surrounding the Feast of St. Lukes are often known as St. Luke's Little Summer in the Northern Hemisphere: those days in late October that are especially warm and golden, especially cherished, since we all know what's coming next. It is proving to be true again this year. Thank you, St. Luke!

My prayer for you today and always is that all who are in need of healing of any sort come to know, in body, mind, and spirit, the golden warmth offered by the healing hands of Jesus upon them.

September 30, 2022

When my husband and I stepped onto our street for our evening walk earlier this week, we saw what looked to be a small rock, moving slowly down the street. Closer inspection revealed not some sort of natural phenomenon in the form of a mobile rock, but a newly hatched turtle. It was a tiny thing, right in the middle of the road.

There was no way to tell where it came from, but the road did not seem like the best place for our new friend to hang out, so my husband picked it up and we carried it about a 1/4 mile to the neighborhood pond, where we set it gently on the grassy bank.

For the rest of our walk, my inner over-thinker came out. What if the turtle had been born in a nest near our home and needed to be there for safety? Would the turtle be disoriented in its new surroundings? Was the street was where the turtle had wanted to be, and we messed it all up? I went back and forth between feeling like we did a good deed, and wondering if we caused unintended harm.

(Did I mention I am an over-thinker at times?!)

In the end, this was my conclusion: we'll never know. We'll never know if we did right by this turtle or not. All we can know is that we analyzed the situation, our hearts were in the right place, and with all good intentions we did what we thought was best. That's all we can know.

This is life. We are presented, over and over again, with situations for which we will not, and do not, have all of the answers. And none of us will ever do everything perfectly. The good news is aren't asked to or expected to. All we can do is do our best to act with kindness, good intention, and integrity. We can look to the stories of our ancestors for guidance. We can look to the teachings of Jesus for guidance. We can look into our own hearts, radiating the love of God out into the world. And we make our best decisions.

My prayer for you this week is to know that in all of your endeavors, your best is good enough for God. Which means it's good enough. Your heart, your integrity, your kindness, is enough. You are enough.

September 16, 2022

I spent a few days camping in the woods this week. We were only an hour from the Twin Cities, but the early fall sun was warm during the day, the nights were perfectly cool for sleeping, the bugs were minimal this time of year, deer came around to visit often, and there were were whole stretches of time where nothing could be heard but the wind in the trees. It was calming and centering and just what I needed.

Driving back into the Twin Cities was jarring. Traffic and honking. Police sirens. Heartbreaking and disturbing stories on the news about migrant families being moved around as if they were political pawns and not real people. And back at home, the to-do list was still waiting!

It's easy to just wish I could go back to the woods. Deer make lovely neighbors and the wind in the trees is much more pleasant than the news on the radio. But the reality and truth is that we live in both worlds: the calming beauty around us, and the messiness, and sometimes heartbreak, that comes hand in hand with the joy and energy of living in community with one another. The truth is, it probably takes a little of both to most deeply live into both.

Jesus went off by himself sometimes - but he always came back. My prayer for you this week is to find balance where you need it. Wind in the trees when you need some calm, and some energy and joy to be found in the returning. Even if it is a bit jarring!

September 9, 2022

The end of summer has been busy behind the scenes at Saint Anne's, as your staff, Wardens, Vestry, are looking ahead to fall and finally the ability to gather in person in all of our various capacities. We're planning a Ministry Fair, freshening up our Confirmation and Children & Youth programs and our Choir program, planning Peace & Justice projects, considering Adult Ed topics, and starting to look toward our 2023 Pledge Drive. The emails have been flying, the phone is chirping non-stop, and buzz is in the air. It's exciting to daydream and then to make those dreams realities.

And meanwhile, the world continues to spin in the here and now. Kids are going back to school. Queen Elizabeth, the titular head of the Church of England, has gone on to greater glory. The 21st anniversary of the 9/11 attacks is this Sunday. We in Minnesota are staring to notice the beginnings of fall leaves and earlier sunsets.

Even as we look to what's next with anticipation, we are reminded to mark and honor the passing of time. We are reminded that the life we are given is precious - and not promised. A life of faith involves looking toward the future with a vision, and each day we are given is meant to be savored.

My prayer for you this week is to find one thing to plan for with joy, and one thing to take in slowly and with gratitude, in the here and now. Both are holy.

August 19, 2022

As I write this to you, I'm in the passenger seat of our full-to-the-brim car, somewhere in the middle of Missouri. We are taking our daughter to her first year at the University of Kansas. The drive is long and the sky is wide and there is a lot of space for reflection.

This time in the car is a middle time. We're leaving what was, but not yet at what will be. As we drive, we're still a cohesive unit: listening together to an audiobook, stopping together to stretch our legs, sharing water and snacks and phone chargers. Tomorrow Tessa will move into her dorm and will launch into something new, on her own. The next time we're together, we'll all have grown and changed in ways we can't know yet.

I've heard the between times of our lives compared to swinging from one trapeze to another. There's a moment in time where you need to let go of one trapeze bar in order to grab another, and in the letting go you're one part exhilarated and one part terrified. One part wanting to hang on, one part ready to leap. To be clear, I've never personally swung on a trapeze and it is not exactly on my bucket list. And to be perfectly honest, I don't love the feelings between times bring. Solid? Safe? Secure? Now those are feelings I enjoy. Flying untethered through the air, not as much.

Our God, however, seems to be a God of Trapeze Flying, and is constantly directing us to new things. New ways to learn, new ways to grown, new ways to experience this one precious life we're given. And that means our God is constantly leading us to between times. I'm trying to remember that, driving through the middle of Missouri. This too, this letting go we all must do, is of God. My prayer for you this week is that whether you are holding solidly to a trapeze bar, or flying through the air to catch the next one, whether you are holding on or letting go, you are meeting God in it all.

I will still be in the between this weekend and will not be at church on Sunday. I'm thrilled to let you know that the Rev. Gwen Powell, who knows a little something about between times, will be there to celebrate with you.

August 12, 2022

On Thursday I spent a little time moving chairs in the sanctuary to create space for the Red Cross Blood Drive that will be held at Saint Anne's today (Friday) from Noon - 6 PM. Though I was in there alone, I was definitely not alone. Saints and angels kept me company, and you were there as well, all of you, just as surely as I was.

With outdoor services since the beginning of June, it's been a little while since we've all been together in the sanctuary, but along with the saints and angels, your presence in that space is palpable. Your laughter and tears. Your prayers and longings. Your love and losses, your light, and the hope you carry. It wasn't lost on me that I was clearing space in that room so that we might all give blood: share lifewith one another. That's what we do, isn't it? Share life with one another. The ups and downs, the joys and the sorrows.

This Sunday we will have the joy of welcoming Amanda Fredrickson in baptism. Baptism is central to how Episcopalians see our place and purpose in the world. We believe every person is created in the image and likeness of God and is loved beyond imagining. Baptism is about welcoming all into this belonging. We believe every person has been given gifts needed for the healing of the world, and everyone is needed for that healing. Baptism is about the commitment we make to help create the world we know is possible. And Baptism is about the promise of new life. The promise that all things are always being made new, sometimes in unexpected ways and places. The promise that even death is not the end.

As I moved the sanctuary chairs this week, I thought about all of this. I prayed for Amanda, for Christian, her husband and baptism sponsor, for each of you, for myself, for our community, for all who will receive the gift of new life through the blood we will donate. I prayed for all that has been and all that will be. When I was finished moving chairs, the newly open sanctuary space felt just right. It still held every bit of who we've been, every prayer that's ever crossed our lips, every sorrow, every joy, every note of music played, but it was also ready for something new. Something waiting to be born. It reminded me that we're all always on the cusp of something new waiting to be born. Thanks be to God.

August 5, 2022

It is too easy, once August comes around, to forget to live in the moment. Thoughts about earlier sunsets, tightening up routines and schedules, and wearing shoes other than flip-flops start creeping in. "It will be fall before we know it," we say to one another. Back-to-school sales have been going on for weeks. It's practically September, isn't it? Then we might as well start thinking about Halloween... Thanksgiving... And all too soon, we've blinked our time away.

But this week my husband and I met dear friends for dinner on a patio and as we all toasted (with our drinks, not in the sun, though it was 88 degrees and sunny on that patio!), my friend said, "Happy Summer!" It struck me right away that she spoke in the present tense. Not "Farewell Summer", not "It was a good summer", but Happy Summer. Here and now.

My friend's toast pulled me into the present. There are weeks left of another glorious Minnesota summer, with its bursts of colorful prairie flowers everywhere and lakeside parks that just beg for someone to sit down with a picnic blanket and a full basket. There is evidence of the Creator's hand everywhere you look. Here and now is all we really have, and here and now should be enjoyed.

My prayer for you this week is for slow moments. Time to soak it all in. Time to be in the here and now. My prayer is for time for your heart to beat in rhythm with the ripples on the lake, and for you to see Spirit dancing in the shimmering water. My prayer is for August to linger, so that we can too, right here and right now.

July 29, 2022

A few nights ago, a parliament of barred owls* showed up in the trees in our yard. It was, at first, entirely baffling. We had no idea what we were hearing in the yard other than a noisy bunch of critters, whooping it up about something they deemed important. For a few minutes we thought they might be turkeys, and then felt badly thinking no, maybe a coyote had found dinner. As the noises and calls continued we were more and more puzzled. Finally, we went outside to investigate and found the sounds coming from the trees. We took a video and friends on Facebook let us know they were barred owls. 

We live in Mendota Heights, in a standard suburban neighborhood, on a standard suburban street. There is a little bit of woods near us and the Mississippi River is just a mile away, so we occasionally hear or see coyotes, fox, and turkeys, but these noises were unlike anything we'd ever heard. Birds of the World calls the barred owl calls “a raucous jumble of cackles, hoots, caws and gurgles.” Here's a listen, if you're as new to them as we were.

The most amazing thing about our Great Owl Experience was that it was so unlike anything we've experienced before. We've lived in our home for 20 years, but no owls before this week. We've been hiking and camping in woods from the Smokey Mountains to to the Pacific Northwest. And of course all over Minnesota. No owls. It was in no way on my radar that an entire parliament* would show up in my yard one night, calling so loudly that they called me out of bed.

Isn't life an incredible surprise?! Thanks be to God!

My prayer for you this week is that at least one incredible surprise will make itself known to you. It might be puzzling at first. It might be noisy enough to keep you up at night. But my prayer is that it brings you a sense of wonder about the world, and a sense of awe about the gifts we are continuously given, often in the most unexpected places and the most unexpected ways.

July 22, 2022

I have often wondered how our Saint Anne's came to be called Saint Anne's. Why Saint Anne and not Saint.... Someone Else? I've asked around and read through our historical documents, but all I can discover is that the name was voted on by members of the congregation. I can't seem to uncover what inspired the decision. (If you are reading this and you know, let's talk!)

It's an uncommon choice. There are other churches called Saint Anne's, yes, but Anne's story, and her role as the mother of Mary and grandmother of Jesus, isn't recorded in the Bible: oral tradition and extra-biblical writings detailing her encounters with the Holy have told Anne's story through the centuries. This makes her story a bit less-known in today's world, and a less-common choice as the patron saint of a church. 

I love that Anne's uniqueness as a patron saint is reflected in the ethos of our Saint Anne's community. That Anne's story appears in wisdom writings outside of traditional Bible stories has inspired our community's interest in non-canonical wisdom writings. Anne's story as a person who carried hope in her heart and grounded herself in prayer seems to be reflected in the outlook found in the Saint Anne's community. Anne's encounters with nature were an important part of her spirituality, as is true for many at Saint Anne's. And let's not forget Anne's flexibility and willingness to follow Spirit wherever She leads with trust and delight. That is definitely the Saint Anne's we all know and love.

I am looking forward to celebrating our patron saint together this Sunday at our annual Saint Anne's Day celebration. Our service will be at 9:30 as is our regular summer schedule, and we'll have a festive celebration to follow. Come one, come all, Spirit calls us in!

July 15, 2022

I spent an afternoon this week with two of my East Metro Episcopal Church colleagues: the Rev. Anna Doherty from Christ Church in Woodbury, and the Rev. Lindsey Biggs, the new priest at Saint Mary's, in St. Paul. It was such a pleasure to invite Anna and Lindsey to Saint Anne's, the midway point between the three churches, and give them a tour of our beautiful grounds, building, and sanctuary. It was wonderful to hear about everything happening in their communities, and it brought each of us a feeling of connection to something bigger than ourselves to hear that some of the same wonderings, some of the same explorations, and some of the same desires to grow into what's next for the Episcopal church in this world are being expressed in each of our communities.

More than anything, it was wonderful to imagine in an outward way again, after so long of being so (necessarily) inward focused. I hadn't realized how much I missed the spark of Spirit that comes from connecting with other communities to share and hope and dream more widely. My afternoon with Anna and Lindsey reminded me of this offering from Bishop Steven Charleston, posted on his Facebook page this week:

What do you need most right now? What would be of the greatest help? Once you have clarity of focus you can create a spiritual strategy for yourself. That will include prayer, of course, but it can also include intentional reading, small group conversations, meditation, contact with the Earth...or any number of other sacred resources designed to support you. Our needs are not always met quickly or easily, but they feel less overwhelming when we have a plan to cope with them. Your primary need is a good place to start on the way to establishing wholeness.

My first prayer for you this week is time to discern the question What do you need right now? My next prayer for you is one of gratitude. Thank you for being part of this community and the support we offer one another in answering questions like this - first for ourselves, then for our church community, and then for the wider world. Little by little, we are laying the foundation for the wholeness that comes from living into the answers. Dreams and visions become God's beautiful reality when we make it so, together.

July 1, 2022

I've mentioned before that Rumi, the13th-century Persian poet, theologian, and mystic, is often a source of wonder and inspiration for me. The way he shares his understanding of God feels to me like a door to an enchanted garden. This week, this long, winding, and wearing week, when I found myself very much in need of some enchanted garden time, I opened a book of Rumi poems and came across this simple, single, line:

“Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.”

Where there is ruin, there is hope for treasure. My prayer for you this week is that amidst all of what feels like ruin in the world right now, your hope for treasure is not diminished. My prayer is that you are able to hold fast to the goodness of the world: the care and compassion of others, the care and compassion in your own heart, the beauty of a summer day, the joy of a child on a playground, the presence of the Divine all around us. My prayer for you this week is some time in a Divinely enchanted garden. Breathe deeply, and take your time.

June 17, 2022

Unless it is too cold or too wet outside, my husband and I generally go for a walk each evening. We don't have a set time, or a set distance, we go whenever and for whatever length of time we can fit in between dinner and evening meetings and the general busy-ness of family life. As the days get longer this time of year it always feels like we have more space in our days. Our walks get longer and we often choose to walk "a new way", randomly turning down this street or that, trying to find something new-to-us.

It is surprising that after living in the same neighborhood for 20 years there are still "new ways" to go - a new corner to turn, or some "Have we noticed this before?" moment. The way there is always something new to see, even after walking the same streets for 20 years, makes me think about the idea that our God continually "makes all things new". Perhaps this kind of understanding of God is what comes of a faith rooted in not one but two stories of Creation. And it might have a whole lot to do with our resurrection stories as well. But what I've been pondering lately is myrole in seeing as new the things I desire to be made new. How does God ask for my partnership in this work?

When the world feels stuck, when we feel stuck, what old things can we try to view in a new light? What can we discover about ourselves, about the world, about God, if we look for opportunities to shift our lens and our thinking? In a world that does feel very stuck sometimes lately, I invite you into this practice. What old thing can you look at in a new way this week? What does it reveal to you about God? And about your place in God's world?

My prayer for you this week is that the place you feel the most stuck, or have the least hope, will shift when you invite God to give you a new perspective. If not, keep asking. Keep turning those corners. Something new will come with time. And when it does, please share your "all things made new" stories with me and with one another: sometimes it's through the eyes of each other that we can see most clearly.