All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well. ~ Julian of Norwich Breath Prayer: “be” “well” As we move through this season, our calendars tell us that next Sunday brings us to Jerusalem and we will begin Holy Week. In many ways, we are ready for this journey to make its way to its ending. And in so many ways, we can’t imagine ever being ready for what is coming next. Julian’s words have been shared and prayed since the 15th century. For hundreds of years these words have been as close to us as our next breath. In our experiences of life we have found ourselves lost and afraid. Our spirits have lost hope. All manner of things not just what is convenient or comfortable, but all-shall-be-well. May we take these words to heart when we lose our way. May we be guided home again. Prayer: Loving God, guide us closer to you this day. Abide with us. We give you thanks that as we move toward your love, we understand again that all manner of things will be well. Amen. [this one’s on you to google: survivor’s tree at world trade center J] Breath Prayer: “transforming” “One” A few years ago the Survivor Tree was replanted at Ground Zero in New York City. Now reaching up 30 feet toward the skies, this callery pear tree was found collapsed at base of the Trade Center. Damaged but not destroyed. Somehow, someway with severe damage to her roots, truck and branches, she survived. Returned back home, this pear tree is a living reminder that love lives. Now in these April days we witness the transformation of bare trees, to buds, to blossoms. Time and again we are reminded of the deeply rooted hope that is always around us. We witness the strength of crocuses and daffodils. It’s as though we have waited through a long, dark night until we can see again the glimpse of light on the horizon. How easy it would be to miss these life gifts. Blink our eyes and we’re past them. But in these wilderness days, we have been reminded to take our time, to pay attention, to lean into love. In these days we are reminded that our roots and branches can heal and reach out deeply again. Prayer: Life-giving God, your love continues to renew and transform us. Somehow, someway you lead us each day into new life. We give thanks for this pear tree in NYC. She is a living testimony that proclaims that even our vulnerability and pain, love lives on. Amen. I wait for You, my soul waits, for in your Love I would live; My soul awaits the Beloved as one awaits the birth of a child, or as one awaits the fulfillment of their destiny. ~ Psalm 130: 5 & 6 (entire reading is Psalm 130) Breath Prayer: “my soul” “waits” One of John Ritter’s most beautiful songs in his Requiem is his interpretation of Psalm 130. In this piece we experience the depths of distress that the psalmist has endured. Many of us know this pain. In the melody sung by the lowest-voiced altos, the listeners experience the fitful intensity of the feelings of estrangement from God. But the psalmist sings on. She also speaks to a faith that can endure even the deepest distress. The verses continue and lean into the hope that holds us all in the darkest times of our lives. It is here in the places where we feel most lost, that our faith also sings: “My soul waits, for in your Love I would live.” God has been teaching us of love through our whole lives. Day-by-day and hour-by-hour we have learned that even in, especially in the places when we feel most afraid, when we believe ourselves to be completely lost ~ there is God. Walking beside us, there is God holding our beliefs, our dreams and futures. There is God leaning in so close that our heartbeats are heard. There is God as close to us as our next breath. God’s melody is our life-song, and God’s love invites us to not lose heart. Prayer: Holy One who was, is and who will be we give you thanks this day. We give thanks that even in our despair, you are with us. Even in the depths of our fear, you are with us. Even we have lost our way, Your Song continues. Give us the strength and courage to join in the song. Amen. Breath Prayer: “known” “by heart” Words hold meaning, stories, histories. They help us speak our truth, giving voice to what we value the most. Our words are often our greatest means of expression, bringing what we hold on the inside out. We use phrases all the time, and more often than not in a few words we communicate just what we mean to say: going steady, shaping up, rise and shine. Knowing by heart. This phrase we use sparingly, purposefully. This phrase speaks to things that deeply connect to us. Here in these Lenten days we are given the opportunity to faithfully remember all that we know by heart. Here in these Lenten days we are reminded of the fullness of our lives. Here in these journeying days we are re-connected to the One has called us by name since our very first breath. Here in these intentional hours we lean into the precious gift of being known by heart. Prayer: Creating God, you know us by heart. From what was, to what is and into what will be you continue to lead us. May we step out in faith again this day, recognizing that these steps are familiar. In renewed confidence may we turn again into Your lovingkindess, giving thanks for all the ways you know us by heart. Amen. Your Invitation: Create a paper quilt (or if you are so inclined, pull out some cloth and thread, but this may take a bit longer). First make your squares or shapes. Inside each one add an image of something you are discovered or received from these past days. One square could represent your map when we were beginning. Another may be your hand and a blessing received. Another may be a memory of a prayer given. This quilt may take a lifetime to finish (and I hope that it is a very, very great covering), but do what you can to begin. Breath Prayer: “cover me” “with your love” Prayer: God of all time and of this day, of all places and this place, of all people and of your precious child, thank you. Thank you for your love that is greater than all my fears, for your light that leads me even through the darkness night, for your melody that guides me home. Amen. “Take away the stone.” John 11:39a (entire reading is John 11:1–45) Breath Prayer: “rolling away” “stones” Stones have been with us (literally and figuratively) all along our Lenten journey. They have marked our path, sometimes showing us which direction to travel next. The small ones, the pebbles, have caused us to limp a bit and given us blisters in our shoes. All around us. Always have been. Jesus’ words to the neighbors and family gathered around Lazarus’ tomb sound chilling, foreboding. Those of us who have traveled this Lenten path before, know of another stone awaiting another tomb in weeks to come. Here is Jesus, prophet announcing that stones can’t always hold us; they aren’t able to contain life. Today is a good day to think about the stones we have rolled in place in our lives. What stones have we rolled into place, denying access and denying life? What have we buried deep beneath a weary weight? May we stop and reflect upon theses things. May we allow for the rolling away of stones; allow for what has been held captive to be released. May we recognize that new life awaits us, new life that is greater than any stone. Prayer: Gracious God, you remind us again this day that life is greater than death, that light is greater than darkness. In your compassion give us the strength and courage to roll away the stones in our lives. Bring us life, we pray and set us free. Teach us to believe again and to not lose sight of you. Amen. What an amazing day…this is…such an amazing day. Maybe it’s living in and loving so much this springtime time in Atlanta. It’s one of the chamber of commerce days (as Dad used to say). God’s unique colors blending together to create such a life-renewing canvas. Maybe it’s feeling healthy for the first time in months (maybe years) and having my eyes and ears and even my spirit open so thankfully…this day. [Yes, I am aware of the pollen count sky-rocketing with {literally} each breath, yes I am…and yet…] What an amazing day. It is a remarkable time to be alive. And these past weeks have made me most aware of the truth of that. I’m aware of the privilege of my life and the preciousness of the living of it. I am grateful for all the prayers that believed me through this long winter into spring. I am so grateful for the support of friends and family, who helped breathe new life into me. I am so very grateful for the wisdom and kindness of the nurses and doctors throughout this time. So very, very grateful. Took some pictures walking home from my Saturday church in Booth 25 with my sisters (thanks S & K & E). Wanted to share them. Blessings and patience to friends in the north-country who are still enduring this long winter not yet into springtime. Wanted to share just a couple of the moments of color and faith-hope-love that walk with us along the way. And wanted to say thank you, thank you, thank you for this amazing day. Breath Prayer: “letting go” “into God” Throughout this past week we have been paying close attention to our hearts and to all that matters within it and in it. This practice can be an awakening to springtime in brand new and life-giving ways. Here in these beginning-again days, we reclaim the daily possibility of being surprised by grace. As we listen again for the Spirit in our lives, we catch a glimpse of the Prodigal’s return. This day Eckhart’s words invite us to release our burdens. This release is not as some gesture of giving up; it is not in any way suggesting defeat for something done or something left undone. But this invitation invites us into the great freedom of God’s vast, eternal loving presence. Will our hearts be able to stand it? We know it matters, we know our lives depend upon it. This invitation is given here, now: Enter into this Matter of the Heart. What say ye? Prayer: Calling God, you throw back your arms of love and kindness and welcome us to return to you. We invite us to begin again this day, living into this one, precious life ~ one heartbeat at a time. You call us by name and we are truly blessed. We give you thanks, Amen. (Thanks for this picture, Susie ~ did anybody guess it was a turtle shell?) Breath Prayer: “wideness” “in mercy” There’s a wideness in God’s mercy. Back when I was serving in the parish I would say to folks who worked in hospice, “I could never do what you do.” And at the time I truly meant it. It felt too raw. Too intimate. Too vulnerable. Too scary. We plan, God laughs. My career track shifted suddenly and I needed to work. With the help of some kind friends and a great deal of grace, my next path was working with families as chaplain/grief counselor with hospice. And there I was. There’s a wideness in God’s mercy. For almost five years I’ve been working with folks who are writing their last chapters and with their families who are beginning to write new ones. It’s impossible for me to fully describe what the work is like from day-to-day. It is holy. It is precious. It is a privilege. It is endless, mindless paperwork. It is sadly business/regulation – driven. It is working with the best of the best. It is maddeningly futile. It is that most each and everyday. There’s a wideness in God’s mercy. This past week I facilitated a Support Group for caregivers. There was a sister and brother whose mother was a resident in the memory unit of the facility hosting the group. They’d brought pictures. They spoke of their mother’s strength and heart, of her wisdom and faith. The son (“I’ve always been her favorite”) said, “I could endure these days if I was sure she wasn’t suffering.” The daughter (jostling her 50+ year old brother, “No, you weren’t. She always told me I was her favorite”) said, “I just need to know we made the right decision bringing her here.” And soon there were only tears. There’s a wideness in God’s mercy. What could I say to them? Could I say that their mother wasn’t suffering? That they’d made the “right” decision? That I knew what it felt like to lose both parents to painful disease? That I knew the pain of putting our Dad in a facility when his Alzheimer’s progressed? That I knew exactly what they meant when each believed to be the favorite (cause I know I was)? That I knew everything was gonna be ok? There’s a wideness in God’s mercy. Over these past years, hospice has been a wise, sometimes over-demanding teacher. From story-to-story hospice has taught me: that there aren’t answers for another’s journey; that listening is one of the strongest and most loving acts we can do for another; that light is greater than darkness; that the sharing of our stories is one of greatest connecting places; and that I should always, always take off my shoes when I know that I’m standing on holy ground. Like that night listening in that Support Group circle. It was as if there was a soft melody suddenly filling the room, “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy.” And we all (somehow) heard it at the same time. Prayer: Merciful God, we give you thanks for this day. Remind us, we pray that when we encounter our sisters and brothers, we are encountering you. When we listen to another, we are listening all for you. When we offer ourselves to another who is in need, we are offering ourselves to you. May we be reminded of your great compassion in the great and small encounters this day. May we always be remembering you, Amen. Breath Prayer: “wait” “a bit” When we went to Africa this past summer we were able to spend 3 days out on Safari. The Kenyan wilderness is alive with living teachers that I’d never dreamed I’d be able to see. Animals grazing and hunting, sleeping and wrestling. Trees, plants, flowers of colors I never knew existed. The acacia tree can teach us about stopping. They have hook-like pieces on their branches that unpredictably stick out. You could be walking along, making your way and all of sudden; you become snagged and are forced to stop. Our stories bring us healing. They companion us and help us hold onto our history. They help us make meaning of where we are and where we’ve been. And sometimes they help guide us into what will be next for us. We tell our life-stories more than once. These are the stories that hold the moments-that-matter of our lives. Sometimes we have the feeling that we are telling them over and over and over again. But it turns out, that’s just not true. If we pay attention, our story is a living one. If we pay attention there is a time, each time when the story changes. There is a time, each time when we get snagged and we have the opportunity to stop. And when we stop, we have the opportunity to listen. Deeply listen, to what we are telling ourselves in the story. It is in this place where we are snagged, where we are hooked, that our hearts are doing their most significant healing work. And when grace abounds we are able to stop and listen. The wait-a-bit tree can remind us that all along the journey there are lessons and gifts. If we march on down the path from here to there and back again, we’ll miss what we are given along the way. And so it would serve us well to wait a bit as we journey through this one precious life. There is healing right there in the midst of our story if we can wait a bit and let our hearts catch up. Prayer: Holy One, this day may we wait a bit for your loving presence. May we lean into your lovingkindness and have the courage to just wait. Amen |
Lesley BroganWorking in Family Experience at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta, Lesley is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. A Candler School of Theology graduate, Lesley has just published her second book, Grief and the Psalms: Companioning the Moon for 29 Days (available on this website). She and her partner, Linda Ellis are raising their two sons, Brogan and Sam in Decatur, GA. Archives
April 2018
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