Thank you for this beautiful morning prayer. You helped shake a poem free:
I wear my prayers like morning on the sky
where every gesture is an act of God:
each whimper a devotion, hymnic cries,
I find my feet but shakily, and nod
some life into the muscles that protest
the dawn that comes: I'm comforted in sleep
and though it seems that every dream is blest
and rising to the world makes me weep
now count me here. In grief and muttering
profanity--but even that's a prayer
when all the world's aggrieved and shuddering
as it recalls the memories most fair,
the mornings spent outside with company
on God's green earth, the blissful and the free.
A prayer by my daughter:
Right now my heart is broken for the many hurting people looking for hope and stability in Donald Trump.
My heart is broken for his many wives and children.
My heart is broken for ALL those who have been swept into this warped reality, gaslit, lied to, abused, used for personal gain by this deeply broken man.
My heart is broken for baby Donald, born into privilege, deceit, emotional abuse, trauma, and mental illness. Baby Donald, made in the image of God, born into sinful systems, fed a steady diet of evil, breaking his own soul again and again as he turns away from love, until that image is distorted and crushed, visible only with the eyes of his creator.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Could folks pray for my faith? I've been in a season of doubt for about 6 months and it just hurts more now during the pandemic.
Thank you. Your prayer speaks for me today. I'm a later in life chaplain intern at a long term healthcare facility and this virus has made it's arrival. I'm exhausted, confused and inspired and..........feeling lost. Lots of contradictory feelings! I'm trying to be brave and put my trust in God. I'm still reporting for work. But I can't seem to pray or even quiet myself in morning meditation. So, your words rang so very, very true and reasonable to me. Yes, reasonable. Herself, will understand . As St. Theresa of the Little Flower said about making everything a prayer, your words make perfect sense for me. Thank you. You kept me out of the ditches today. <3 Blessings to you my dear
Pray that empathy for our fellows may be the highest form of praising God.
Thank you again Nadia for your gift with words. My prayer this morning is for all the incarcerated women in MD. Especially those I count as friends. And most especially for Lisa who is in the ICU in handcuffs with Covid. And for all the Pastors, Rabbi's and Imam's who are trying to sort out how to minister to us in this crazy time.
Pretend I am Jimmy Fallon and there is a piano playing:
Thank you, for knowing me without ever meeting me.
Thank you, for saying what I needed to hear again and again.
Thank you, for sharing stories about your family that helped me shape mine.
Thank you, for being real.
Thank you, for touching my heart through your books.
Thank you, for allowing yourself to be guided by the Holy Spirit.
This shot is real...and I don't ever want to be an asshole.
For educators In childcare who are trying to prepare for Kids to come back - for the huge task of extra cleaning, health checks, wearing masks while trying to let kids see they are smiling , more cleaning, reassuring parents and themselves that “ we got this” and for the tremendous fears of getting it “ wrong” and making a child or someone else sick or possibly die. 💔all while working for extremely low wages. For those who have stayed open thru these months for essential workers children and their unending exhaustion. For being first responders who love children and now live in danger of the invisible virus they could take home to their own families. Protect and encourage them.
For my friend Jenny, suffering major depression alone during the lockdown, I ask for merciful healing.
For my childhood friend, who waits to hear if she has cancer again and for her son, in whom cancer already resides.
These are just the prayers I need right now. Songs in the Key is such a blessing I literally wore out cassettes (2 sets!) of it and still crank up the CD or stream it. Happy birthday indeed Stevie!
Thank you, Nadia, for reminding us these acts of gratitude and grief are equal parts love for God and His creations ❤️
Today I'm thinking of and praying for our seniors: high school seniors, college seniors, 80 year old seniors. I'm hoping that they can feel our collective love and grace and that the dreams that they've been dreaming come true. Prayers up!
Thank you for this prayer. I am asking for prayers for friends of mine who have adult children with developmental disabilities who live in facilities of one sort or another. Because of the quarantine restrictions the parents are unable to visit and for several of the children , they are unable to understand why they can see the parents on a screen, but not in person. There is great sadness and heartache . Parents feel helpless to advocate for their children and the children feel abandoned. Pray for heart healing
This made me think of Carrie Newcomer’s “Holy as a Day is Spent” so I looked that up and ended up in tears just reading the lyrics.
I miss singing. I belong to two choruses, and singing even the most secular song a spiritual activity. It’s also apparently the most effective way to aerosolize and spread the COVID-19 virus, making rehearsals and performances something to look forward to in a year or so when there’s a vaccine.
For me as a Quaker, one of my foundational hymns is “How Can I Keep From Singing.” 2020 has put a whole new spin on that question.
Eucharist by Eucharist
The most Memorable moments in my Life have been spent around The Table:
Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter;
Weddings, Baptisms, Funerals;
Arguments with my Brother,
and my Mother...
Times I sat in Silence across from My Father,
head in my hands,
unable to answer His question:
“What will you do now?”
There have been break-ups over dinner on a last date,
and coffee or cocktails with Sisters
where We talked about Relationships Newly Born,
or Coming to an end.
Discussed religion or politics,
or the politics of religion,..
Took time to catch up and
take an interest in each Life,..
Come to grips.
I have Served dinner to Friends who
brought their guitar,
introduced me to their language,
I have been Served meals of Art
… and crow.
There were those New Year's Eves spent
playing poker, eating lentils,
And those last few days of pregnancy spent
counting kicks and eating chocolate.
There were picnics of Bread and cheese bought from the farmer's market
with the last bits of Change we could scrape together from our pockets;
the plums so juicy they dripped down our chin,
the napkin Shared between Us, our only Table.
I have watched my Grandmother's hands knead soft dough
into pillowy biscuits that I covered in molasses and ate
assuming She would always be at The Table to Feed me.
I see Her hands in the dough I knead into silky mounds.
She is Here.
I have stood in my kitchen over bubbling pots of sauce as I flirted with Lovers,
and cut apples in my Neighbors kitchen as we discussed the news of the Day.
I have licked the beaters as both Child and Mother.
Shucked corn with my Aunts sitting on the back stoop;
Plucked berries off the Vine with my Cousins, running in the fields.
Sucked the marrow of a Divinely ripe Fig as I sat among the branches of its Tree.
I've been Offered burnt buttered toast, in bed with a paper crown on Mother's day
(laundry could wait)!
and hot buttered croissants, in bed on a silver tray at The Crown Hotel.
(Venice could not!)
I still keep the label, signed by All Present,
from the last bottle of Vino we Shared in Rome.
We sang around The Table in Celebration and Mourning;
The taste of sweet honey, tart pear and salty cheese
still on my lips.
At The Table I have bowed my head,
sat in contented Bliss
watching my Loved Ones.
Meat on the grill.
S'mores by the Fire.
The first Sunday dinner at the In-Laws,
and every Sunday thereafter for years to Follow.
Strained peas, spat out and landing in my hair; a definite “no”
during those trial and error months of weening.
Spaghetti eaten with gusto, using Her whole hand, straight from the bowl,
strands landing in Her hair; a definite “yes”.
Quiet moments (wasn't it just weeks ago?) with my Daughter at my Breast.
Ice cream to Celebrate the last day of school,
and mark the first day of Summer.
The weekly photo of espresso exchanged with a Friend on other side of World;
the geographic distance between Us be damned.
Pizza, under the covers on movie night.
Soup and cartoons Served to colds and chicken pox.
Fried dough and lobster at the clambake on the beach.
Sunny luncheons on decks and balconies.
Moonlit dinners on rooftops with a view.
One cheesecake, Three forks.
Donuts, warm and fresh, at 5am from the back door of the bakery
because,We're still Awake and suddenly Hungry.
The cracker passed across the pew
from a Toddler's snack-pack; shy smile, wide eyes: “Share?”
All of This,
He told his disciples,
Do in Memory of Me.
For All of This, They too had done Together
Around The Table.
Do this to Re-Member My Church.
Do this to Remember
that For the Kingdom,
These are the Essentials.
This is what We will return Home to.
This is the Path. The Way.
This is The LIFE.
This is where we Ground Ourselves to get there:
In the Essentials.
Every meal Shared around The Table of Life,
in Feast, and Celebration, and Heart ache,
Every time We break Bread in Community
and raise a glass in Thanksgiving,
to Family and Friends and Strangers,
God is among Us.
God blesses Us with these Gifts.
God is waiting for Us.
Say Grace! [Bless, us Oh Lord...]
has been set for Us
at the Table which
has Prepared in the
Kingdom of Peace.
For my son, my first born, who turns 18 on the 23rd and who sounded so broken on our call this morning. May he find peace, willingness and faith and may I be granted the courage to handle what ever your will is for him God. Amen