Help us feel at home with ourselves and with one another so there is no need to pretend.

Safety is not tied to our capacity to watch our neighbors, but rather based on our capacity to truly look out for one another.

We can’t run from ourselves. The answer to safety is always closer rather than farther away.

Zach Norris, the author of this year's UU common read, challenges our notions of safety, promoting a culture of care.

I learned that love and support can be expressed in many different ways by different people.

It’s through our shared interdependence that we are sheltered and saved.

In these days of so much uncertainty, may we choose honesty over comfort, love over complacency, and truth over convenience.

One day, I’ll have to care for my mother as she once cared for me. I’m not ready to handle the truth that our relationship must change.

This quite perfect accidental photo.

We kindle this flame, Honoring the doorways in our souls: The windows through which we gaze at one another The balconies where we catch glimpses of sky The thresholds we stand on this morning Wondering, hoping, fearing, dreaming.

A new disease, without any cure, is pushing us apart. And, yet, we cannot escape one another. We need one another. Whether I acknowledge it or not, the guarantee of safety does not exist.

I’m confident in our human ability to together muscle our way into renewing our world.

“Game” is no longer the proper metaphor to guide my thoughts and actions. We are—all of us—in liminal space, at a threshold confronting immediacy, shrouded in fog.

Years ago, I did one of those mud run obstacle races. There were eight physical obstacles on the course, but my biggest learning was that we all had a ninth obstacle.

In this community, we hold hope close. We don’t always know what comes next, but that cannot dissuade us. We don’t always know just what to do, but that will not mean that we are lost in the wilderness. We rely on the certainty beneath, the foundation of our values and ethics. —Rev. Theresa I.

When you’re the only black man in a sea of whiteness, purses still get clutched, and people still cross the street, and hellos still get lost in the void.

This ritual begins by lighting a candle from the chalice, and placing it in position. A list of supplies is at the end of this resource. One: Fire. Source of warmth and life for our ancestors; and for humans still today....

It was disruptive and strange to know that someone had died to bring this hope, and to wonder how the donor’s family mourned at the same time we rejoiced.