People move places for jobs, relations, opportunities, escape, hindering our ability to put down new roots. And yet, we carry a constancy: the still, quiet voice within.

“There’s a hunger beyond food that’s expressed in food, and that’s why feeding is always a kind of miracle. It speaks to a bigger desire.” Note: one version of this quote, quasi-attributed, appears in Take This Bread (p. 23) by Sara Miles.

We call forth the life of our faith by igniting our chalice. This spark of new beginnings invites us into a sacred space to reflect where we have been and where we are going. Even knowing that this particular flame will intentionally end with our ritual extinguishing, we fear not its end… For we...

We light this chalice as a symbol of reunion. We reunite in this sanctuary to share the flow of our hearts with one another. We gather together in ritual to celebrate our fountains of joy to hold each other through storms of grief to guide one another through rapids of transformation to rest...

Spirit of Love, hold us in your embrace. Offer comfort to [NAME] and all who love [her/him/them] as [she/he/they] move[s] through [her/his/their] final days. Help us look upon What Has Been with compassion and remind us that every minute of life is one more than we’ve been promised. Spirit of...

I give thanks for all it takes to be a healing presence, and also how simple it is. I confess that I want to be seen as (especially) good (especially) right (especially) useful. I confess that I'm still learning an artful skill....

I’d gotten in the habit of keeping my head down and hardly noticing where I was or who was around me. On this day, I decided to greet the world differently.

Within the heart of the flower, the fountain of beauty Within the heart of the community, a fire that warms and dances Within the heart of each of us, a spark of the spirit of life. Holy, holy, holy.

Music is my solace and my comfort, the one thing that’s always with me. I feel its vibration deep in my soul; it’s my spiritual practice. Music tells the story of my life.

I choose to believe in community. I choose to believe in the difficult, slow work of building a common life.

We give thanks for your presence among us. You are living examples of courage and perseverance. We give thanks for the stories you have collected through the years. By sharing your stories, you help shape ours. We give thanks for the many tasks you have undertaken for the betterment of others. We...

Tell me the story of my birth, and help me understand how you were changed the day I entered the world. Help me know love, deep in my bones.

However imperfectly I may be living this life of mine, there’s no one better at it, and there’s no one else who can do it for me.

My heart broke the day my son stood in the bathroom crying. He handed me a pair of scissors and told me to just cut it. I told him how beautiful his hair was and how sad I would be to see him cut it.

Among other wonders of our lives, we are alive with one another, we live here in the light of this unlikely world that isn’t ours for long. May we spend generously the time we are given. May we enact our responsibilities as thoroughly as we enjoy our pleasures....

In real life, we can only place the pieces, one by one, and see what kind of picture we create. Sometimes we turn out to have chosen the wrong piece. Sometimes the picture is wildly unexpected.

What if we encouraged and celebrated each other for who we are? What if, instead of criticizing, we challenged with love, affirming the good we see in one another?

I invite you to enter a period of quiet for a guided meditation. You may wish to adjust your position so that your spine is straight, your body relaxed, your hands resting gently in your lap. You will probably want to close your eyes and shut out all the distractions of the light....

Suspended between all that was and all that might be, we struggle to find this very moment—to live this very moment. Let us sit together for a moment, and savor this moment. Let us relish this between time where past meets future, Let us harbor a faith that reminds us that right now, right here,...

How many more Sundays will the preacher in black robes and the solemn shuffle of papers Read the names of those whose light was extinguished for our right to bear arms? How many more Sundays will we try to believe that our hopes for justice are worth more than the lobbyists’ tailored suits and...