Monday, September 7, 2020
Saturday, September 5, 2020
Yesterday, I needed to go to our local drugstore. There I witnessed conversations that gave me concern, but also great hope. They took place at the pharmacy window. When I first walked by, an older man was standing there, and the pharmacist (she may have been a pharmacist's assistant) was trying to explain to him that he could get his flu shot today. He was confused, probably because of his hearing. It took a couple of attempts on her part to help him find some clarity. Yet, even though she had to speak up in the hopes of being heard, her voice came from a place of kindness. I felt she knew him, but I got no sense of "Oh, no, not this again." Her next client also struggled some with confusion, this time about her checking account. Again, I got the sense the anchorite at the window knew her as she gave good guidance to give her bank a call, but for today pay for her prescription with a credit card. She, too, was invited to get her flu shot. If you heard only the inflection of her voice, you might think the anchorite was inviting them to tea as she assured them she would prepare things for them if they would take a seat. The plastic chairs beckoned and they quietly settled in.
Saturday, August 22, 2020
I found this week to be hard. I wept through much of the Democratic Convention. To hear words like God, hope, dignity, and light spoken right out loud on a national stage reminded me that I had been thirsting in a dry land, and that I was certainly not alone. We have been battered by an onslaught of venomous name calling, falsehoods, disease, economic despair, racial inequality, and now fire. This week it all caught up with me, and try as I might, it seemed I just could not get much accomplished at all. Of course, as I write this, I wonder why I tried so hard. The effort was probably misguided, and not particularly kind to myself.
Sunday, August 16, 2020
This morning we have thunder, lightning, a little rain, and a stressed dog. Tyler just spotted a rainbow. Such goings on makes one yearn for a Psalm. I turn to a portion of Nan C. Merrill's, Psalms for Praying Psalm 104.
"The glory of the Radiant One endures
forever, for the works of Love are sure.
You are ever-present to us, even as the earth trembles,
even as the mountains spew forth ashes and smoke.
I will abandon myself into your hands
as long as I live;
I will sing praises to You while I have breath."
Wednesday, August 5, 2020
As time flashes past so quickly before us, bless us with the gifts of pause and memory –
So that we might re-encounter your steadfast love for us again.
Allow us to be brave enough to correct wrongs that still lay on our hearts –
So that our empathy can flow more freely.
Give us the capacity and humility to make new strides towards reconciliation –
So that our boundaries of care and imagination might expand.
Let our souls be filled with joy and forgiveness. May we be generous with time by holding spaces for others to be heard.
Ease our pains of rejection and abandonment while showering us with your love and grace, even as we carry our whole and authentic selves forward into each day and new circumstance.
Highlight what makes us special, important and beloved and then give us the courage to believe it –
So that we lead by example for others to do the same.
With hopeful hearts we pray,
Rev. Ruth T. West