God we draw near to you today in faith and trust. Make your presence known to us as we receive your word through all our worship. As we gather, we pray for the people of this church, that as we learn to thrive emotionally, we will be open to granting and receiving the support we need to live wholly in you.
We give thanks for the ways that God blesses others through us as we are faithful givers to the mission that we support as a church. We pray for the people of the Charlotte area as we join together to collect food to fight hunger. We pray for the people of this nation, especially the community of Flint, Michigan as they grapple with the injustice surrounding their water crisis.
We pray for the children of the world, for their safety and health in all circumstances, especially as their families leave homes torn by war.
As we draw close to you, heal us in body, mind, spirit, and relationship. Lead us to act as your people in all places and at all times. Amen.
It was so good to have our first snow in our new home. We only lost power for an hour or so, we had everything we needed, and we didn’t have to make any hard decisions about leaving home in order to get to work or go out for an emergency. It was beautiful, the white blanket that covered what we are only now beginning to recognize as home.
It was nice while it lasted, but now it is time for it all to melt. Our back yard is still a bit dangerous with the sheet of ice covering the blanket of snow—my husband nearly got his car stuck on his way to work this morning. The ice is still hanging out in the shaded parts of our road, threatening to send us sliding out off the road… not something I want to try with my baby in tow. And I want to see if we have any volunteer flowers that are waiting for the first hints of Spring… I’m ready for it, even though Spring is still two months away.
It’s odd, the way that the snow melts and water runs off from the mountains that would be puddles in summer. Water keeps coming from places that we normally see as dry. Its like with snow, the water took a pause. With rain, the deluge is immediate. The ground is immediately sodden, and then can work it’s way to the roots and trees. With snow, the water is kept in holding. Until the sun or warmer weather melts it, the water stored in the white blankets is kept in a holding pattern, waiting to see if it will gently water the earth, or erode down to the bedrock.
We wait for the snow to melt. We wait to see if anything changed under the weight of the icy blanket. Did something get pushed aside when the snow plow careened through the neighborhood? Did anyone skid into a new place, creating a path out of a green space? Did the trees get damaged by the ice, or are they stoically waiting for the thaw with the rest of us?
What is coming next? How much will the melted snow reveal? And when will these new things take their place?
Almighty God, our hearts break with the injustice in the world. We grieve that there continue to be people made in your image that are caught up in slavery through human trafficking. We confess our participation in a system that enables slavery through the clothes we wear, the food we eat, and the drinks we share.
Make us your hands and feet in working to break open the systems of power that keep people enslaved.
Work through us. With Isaiah we cry out to you:
“Isn’t this the fast I choose: releasing wicked restraints, untying the ropes of a yoke, setting free the mistreated, and breaking every yoke? Isn’t it sharing your bread with the hungry and bringing the homeless poor into your house, covering the naked when you see them, and not hiding from your own family? Then your light will break out like the dawn, and you will be healed quickly. Your own righteousness will walk before you, and the Lord’s glory will be your [defense].”
–Isaiah 58:6-8 CEB
Break your light into the darkness of Human Trafficking, that all may be set free so that “justice [will] roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”
–Amos 5:24 CEB
We pray in the freeing and powerful name of Jesus, Amen.
I’ve been missing for a while… I moved and had a baby since my last post. I’ve begun writing again. You can see what I wrote for my UM conference here, and what follows is what I am writing as I begin the practice again on a regular basis.
It’s taken me a while to mend. It has been thirteen weeks since I packed up my house and took a final walk down to the creek and back. I received a gift that day. The Great Blue Heron that frequents that little stretch of water waited until we were down at the base of the hill to take off. It was a bit late for her to be there, the day was growing warm, but still she was there, lifting off into the sky, giving us one final goodbye before we locked the house and got into our cars for the last time.
Twelve weeks ago I was holding my daughter, hours old, wondering at her long fingers and toes, her utter reliance on me for everything, her way of transforming my life completely. I was utterly spent, exhausted from bearing her through her entry into the world.
Eight weeks ago I took another walk, this time from our new home, down to another creek where another heron was taking off and showing me that this, too, is home.
Four weeks ago I began working at my new church, learning people and an entirely new culture. Grace has been extended to me and my family as I have entered this new many-faceted transition. I feel the love that those around me have for my daughter in the way that they have cared for her while I make the transition to working motherhood.
And today I have begun working full time, exploring what it means to be away from my daughter for hours on end. This is not a new thing, but it is new to me. I am learning, still, how I will fit into this new place, how I will live into this new calling.
I had the exquisite opportunity to bless elements today that will be going out into the world, so I had a little Eucharist in my office with a couple of the staff.
It’s ice cream season again. Yes, I suppose that it could always be season, but once summer hits I always want it just a little bit more than usual. And now, just in time for the heat to hit as hard as possible, Summer is officially here, just in time, as well, for me to hit the full term of my pregnancy and moving day. It’s not a big deal… of course not. I wonder when the energy of nesting will set in, and if I will be able to nest in my new home, or if our daughter will surprise us in the next week.
And soon, we get to meet our daughter, discover her personality, find out her favorite foods and whether she likes ice cream or not. I imagine she will. I wonder what flavor will be her favorite and if, like my own, it will change. That is the cool thing about preferences; they are allowed to change. We are allowed to decide that we like new things. It’s a good reason to keep trying new things and new ways of doing them so that we can see if there is a way that works better for us than the old way of doing it.
I wonder if my daughter will be sweet, like the poem about sugar and spice and everything nice… I hope, more than sweet, that she will be compassionate. I don’t much care if she is polite as long as she cares for those around her, for those who do not have the same privileges as her. She is being born to two employed white parents with a good marriage and a stable home. It will be part of our job as parents to teach her that she is able to do things that other boys and girls her age have a harder time at, because of different circumstances. We will teach her that she should listen before she speaks, not to be sweet, but to learn about the people around her.
These are lessons, of course, that will happen in a few years. For now, I need to learn some of these things myself, about what my privilege looks like and how I can be in conversation with those who have lived with different experiences and realities than my own. I continue to learn about how I experience the world differently. I hope to learn enough that I can help my daughter learn as well. And perhaps we will be able to sweeten the lives of others and even share some ice cream together.