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Prayer for a Pandemic

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Our Father, In these strange and uncertain times we see you, and we see that you are a God of both holy anger and of tender mercy. We thought we were in control, working to make our businesses profitable and fill our leisure hours with activities that felt fulfilling. We are reminded, as we erase appointments and sign up for Zoom accounts, that man plans his way but you establish our steps. We are reminded that there is much we don’t know, didn’t anticipate, and is in your hands and not ours. You hear the discussion, oh Lord, about what the right measures to take are. Only a few of us need to decide the steps that will be enforced. Please help these few to be wise in the face of a million unknowns, and please help us to fear you and honor the magistrates (whether we agree with their orders or not.) Help us to love our neighbor. To think of the elderly and those who live alone, to text or write or call or video chat, to share our toilet paper, to spend some money at the s

Come on in!

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I want a table that says Tell me your story I want to make meals You're not self-conscious to eat To cook for restricted, or slow, or messy eaters And a baby to cheer your view. Food is a gift! So is a good coffee Let us make you a treat or scrounge something quick. We want to give blessing we've also received We want you to to know: You're cared for You're heard We're glad you are here. Image source

The undeserved love I receive

This is a poem says things that many other parents have said before me. I am writing it anyway because it is new and mysterious and wonderful to me.  You think my hair is meant to help you pull in close. Your wet baby kisses extend my energy, my perseverance, far beyond the limits I thought I had. There's a look when you know you have all my attention I can't put a name to it but oh, how I hope you don't outgrow it anytime soon. Please, my Father, help me to look more like you. Please, my Father, help me to trust you like he does; expressing, unhindered by any thought that You might not want to hear, content, to know that You delight in me too.

to live by the wildflowers

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turn off turn onto the gravel roads to wander to reach for a spray of the wildflowers, not as a taking of the fruit of another's possessions but as a recognizing welcoming the delight of sun, wind, sky mountain and plain to gather the glories in highlight their riotous worship. Yes, we see we join with the ringing, repeating song of praise! image source

finding my voice again

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Finding my voice again feels a little presumptuous What do I have to say? Only the unfinished Perhaps I'm no longer grieving, No longer longing as before Perhaps I don't dare to speak for fear the good will vaporize More likely I'm less alone these days There are two and the Lord who hear my heart these days I have become wife I have become mother Perhaps I don't dare to speak for fear of hurting those who long for these titles Perhaps I've heard some try to teach the how As if they knew it all I don't goodness, I don't. But I am learning new things I suppose we all are.

This Year

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"Hormones." Kind of an ugly word to explain the flood of emotions, don't you think? So many different things to hold in my heart this twenty-eighth birthday. So many things have changed so quickly in the space between my twenty-sixth and twenty-eighth birthday - I hadn't even met the man who woke me singing "Happy Birthday" so I would hurry to open the gift he would use to make my morning coffee for me, while our child kicked his or her greeting inside me. My twenty-seventh birthday was just after our honeymoon. The newlywed stage is beautiful, but for all its thrills and despairs, treasured new things and bumbling adjustments, I don't wish to be back in that stage. How thankful I am for all we've learned, the trust we've built, the skills acquired for cheering each other on. How much more we have to learn. Each of us hold our everyday sorrows, together with the immense and humbling realizations of how much good we've been given.

my sister is strong.

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Although I could write many things about my beautiful biological sister,  this is about one of my little sisters in the family of Christ.   My sister is strong. The others, when they start to act tough and they vow they'll never care about anything again you know they just can't handle it anymore. The others, they're so angry because this isn't right, this isn't the way it's supposed to be that they give up hope of learning what it IS supposed to be like. Somehow, my sister's not like that. Me, I haven't had a quarter of her hardship written into my story I, at her age, wasn't anywhere near so resilient. My sister still dreams. She is strong enough to love the way the winter branches kiss the sky She is strong enough to want to care for the more vulnerable She is strong enough to love the people who make life so difficult for her She is so strong, she still knows how to cry. My sister is a very special person.