Welcome, you questioners, seekers of Truth with a capital T, pilgrims longing for sanctuary, travelers needing harbor from the storm.

Welcome, those who are holding on by a thread, determined breakers of the chains of loneliness and isolation. You pushed through your fear because something told you that you deserve to belong.

Welcome home.

Welcome, those who braid ropes, again and again. You've been there for our siblings who were just hanging on. You gave them a hand into community and told them they could rest here.

Welcome, you who seek spiritual and religious community for your children and grandchildren. You entrust your young people here, and we, as a community, commit to nurture and respect them.

Welcome, children and youth. You give us the gift of your wisdom, your joy, your curiosity, and your trust that we will hold all of it safe.

Welcome.

Welcome home.

How do we make this tender place wider? How do we stretch into a bolder welcome, a radical generosity of the heart?

Can we imagine ourselves the stewards and ushers, not only into this space, but into our circle of belonging?

Can we commit and recommit to being accountable to one another as an anti-racist, anti-oppressive community that centers marginalized voices, that listens to those voices especially when what they are saying is hard to hear? Can we be willing to change?

When we break our agreements with one another, can we offer amends? Can we be humble and generous? There is grace enough here.

There is, in this place, the possibility of healing, of repair, of making things right: within ourselves, between us, and with the wider world.

There is, in this place, possibility.
Welcome home.