Wherever you are, body, heart, and mind, I am wishing you a bedrock of peace. The peace “passing understanding” which resolutely lodges itself beneath the surface of the continual change we are facing, the unraveling of what we’ve known and depended upon….

How powerfully reminded I’ve been of our interconnectedness. We live in a culture which prizes (idolizes?) individualism. And this experience of Covid-19 is not only a profound reminder, it is in many respects a calling. What does it look like to “love my neighbor” in these days? Because as many have said, we belong to each other. Your trust, empathy, and daily, faithful action are a gift with unmeasurable value.

The Illustrated Ministry team is putting together a coloring poster to help us breathe and focus in the swirl and the stress, and I wrote a short, simple prayer for it. Similar themes to Ash and Starlight, which grounds itself in surrender and courage.

Into your spacious heart 

and loving hands, dear God,  

I place my fears, 

my “what if’s,” 

my spinning world and mind…

Comfort me with the truth 

No fear is too big  

for the Great One within me. 

I am never alone.  

Calming God, bring courage. 

Tender Spirit, breathe peace. 

Gentle Jesus, be close. 

Amen. 

Blessings to all in this week of gathering, remembering, and giving thanks. My publisher asked that I write a couple of prayers for these coming days – one for Thanksgiving, and one for the stresses of complicated family dynamics at the holidays. This time of year can really push and press on family wounds for some. If this is your reality, I am praying extra gentleness and strength over you this week.

***

Thanksgiving prayer 

Generous One,

Everything is gift (from You!),

yet we become so used to 

what we have and who we have 

that entitlement and expectation 

can film over our eyes. 

So on this Thanksgiving, 

we rub those eyes as long as it takes

to see with renewed clarity

the matchless, limitless abundance

that is your love toward us. 

God, use this marked, single day to

embed in our hearts a 

lifetime of daily praise.

Give us uplifted hearts 

holding responsibility’s weight

to serve and love 

with all we’ve been given. 

And no token-giving. 

We say Thank You, God, with all we are,

and promise to live our Thank You 

with our lives, not only our words – 

neither of which can encompass how 

much gratitude we owe you. 

Amen. 

***

When you’re struggling with family over the holidays….

Steadying God,

Settle my stressed-out soul,

my ruminating mind, 

my churning body

in this time of joining family.

For the “most wonderful time of the year”…. 

To really love them,

I must love them as they are. 

You tell me it is not love, otherwise. 

But the age old wounds

and present dysfunction

make me realize how tender 

those pain points still are,

and I can crumble or armor up

at the lightest touch. 

Can you help me, God,

to somehow make gentleness and grace

my guardrails this day? 

To allow space for all the things 

that have changed alongside the things

that have not?

Give me the integrity, 

the self-awareness,

the courage to be who I am,

honoring the Youwithin me – 

and each person under this roof. 

To remember as much as I can

that in joining hands and hearts

we are united with you. 

And today can be one step,

as you promise to be there 

for every next one – 

forward or backward. 

Amen. 

Good Friday blessings, friends. I’ve been eating up so much Richard Rohr lately. He’s long been one of my heroes. Father Rohr has set me – along with countless others – free. It’s not an overstatement to say he has changed my life, and his latest book has been (IMHO) his best yet. I beg every one of you to read this book, or even listen to the accompanying podcasts. You will not remain the same.

On this Good Friday, I think of a couple of truths from Father Rohr that sink deep into my bones today. First, that “God loves things by becoming them.” And second, “everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end.”

My understanding of the cross and what it means is very different now than it was growing up, and through Richard Rohr, I love and appreciate it in a whole new (and much more healing, helpful) way. God incarnate in Jesus Christ embodies for me how love is the undercurrent beneath every single thing in our world.

I wish you tangible experiences today of Christ’s pervading, unconditional love. And in doing so, offer another sneak peek toward my book – launching this fall – that includes a Lenten prayer.

***

For Lent

 Redeeming One,

You came, Jesus, to show me the

best way to live and walk this path.

You let yourself feel the depth

of need surrounding you.

You kept a purity of focus.

You always, always chose love.

All with bravery and trust.

I need you, Jesus, to walk

beside me now,

helping me reflect,

confess, prepare…

This Lenten path puts before me

the questions and realizations

I so often stuff away.

With each step, I’m recognizing

barriers built through my

rote habits and unrealized prejudices,

my base-line grudges and routine neglects…

I must acknowledge compromises

that drew me further away

from my own soul and your calling.

But I’m coming back home.

Hone my desires to that

pure focus you held.

Help me fast from self-absorption,

finding my sustenance in the

rich profundity of suffering-love.

Draw my heart and feet forward

on this path that’s both total mystery

and innate to who I am in you.

A minor melody marks our cadence,

yet you tune my ears for more than that.

Resurrection is always the final number.

Help me walk, Savior Lord,

with hope amid heaviness,

ears to the ground.

I will welcome my mortality

and the potential in ashes and dust.

Amen.

 

Psalm 51:17 * Isaiah 53:4-6 * Luke 9:23-24

 

“If any want to become my followers,

let them deny themselves and take up

their cross daily and follow me…” Luke 9:23

 

Spring blessings to you, friends! Welcome to the end of the week. Perhaps these recent days had some challenges for you. Maybe it was hard not to take comments you received personally. Maybe you’re getting really tired of the chronic pain that just can’t be kept in check. Maybe the kids had a tough time acclimating to routine and rhythm after spring break. Maybe you discovered you had a dead skunk underneath your deck that made your entire house smell like the plague of death. Yes, that last one did indeed happen to us this week.

Whatever the week brought, here is some encouragement for you, friends, as you begin the weekend. Spring is here, and with that comes all the promises for which we yearn. Growth and blooming, beauty and rebirth, always come. The most exquisite sights regularly appear after quiet, strenuous work below ground (often unnoticed, routinely in frigid, gray sameness).

God never ceases from creating beauty. As we witness it outside, remember God’s creating that beauty in you. It might not feel like “spring” in your soul or life. Maybe you’re grinding through the same-old that’s needed and asked of you right now. Know without a doubt, though, that spring always comes. It’s in the fabric of the world. It’s in the skin and heart and life of you. And your faithfulness right now lays a foundation of rich, nourishing soil. It will feed the fruit about to form.

I shared last week that my book, Ash and Starlight: Prayers for the Chaos and Grace of Daily Life, is now available for pre-order! As another little “sneak peek,” here is a prayer for springtime from the book .

For Springtime

Loving, Creator God,

Spring reminds me it’s

never too late to start over.

That there’s been quiet growth

over these long months

of winter when I saw nothing.

When I was called to believe

there was growth happening

beneath hard, cold soil.

And now? Glory!

I celebrate the loveliness

of all you’ve made.

The newness, Lord,

the freshness –

it inspires my soul!

Tulips in the front yard,

buds on the trees,

the voices of birds,

the cleansing of rain,

the comfort of sunshine…

each gift renews me,

speaking of the promise within

all those months of dormancy

and preparation.

As spring awakens my physical senses,

I ask, God, for you to awaken my inner senses.

May my mind open and blossom

to the longings you’ve placed within me…

to the steps and path that will

satisfy the desires of my heart…

to the hopes and passions

you’ve planted in every

one of your children…

May I seek what will truly fulfill them.

May I journey toward their Source.

May I be guided by your gentle and wise Spirit.

It is never too late to be

what you call me to be.

Even as it takes greatest courage

and deepest humility.

With your help, I will open myself to

what I never expected before,

never experienced before,

and never thought possible.

Amen.

Psalm 16:11 * Psalm 104:24-30 * Isaiah 55:8-9

“You show me the path of life.

In your presence there is fullness

of joy.” – Psalm 16:11

So many people I know are living through some excruciating things. A number of them are grappling whole-heartedly with grief over death,  seeking to honor the space they need for all the emotions while simultaneously receiving the task to relearn their world. It is hard work to live with integrity and integration amid loss. The pressures to compartmentalize, ignore, or control are so real and so strong. But the person who lives in wholeness decides to scoop in everything with open arms. We can never selectively numb.

This winter has been much different than the last, and I was surprised to witness how much of Lake Michigan was frozen over on my chilly run the other day. There’s an overlook at which I love to pause on most of my runs, and in doing so that day, I noticed something. While from a distance the lake seemed like a frozen block of stillness, there was movement. In looking a bit more closely, I saw the ice formations on the lake’s surface gently swaying – not much, but a slight back and forth, responding to the nudges of the current below.

What appeared to be static and hard was actually breathing in a quiet, small way. I’m not sure how long the winter will last, but even as things look frozen and unchanged, there are breath, life, and little tiny movements keeping everything from getting stuck.

For all of you grieving a goodbye today, I bless you in your small breaths and movements. In the strong victory of the choices you will make today to do the next thing, even as your world feels frozen over. Free-flowing, strong waves eventually come, but this is not the time nor the season to really even think about it. Hibernating in the hush is where healing must begin.

This prayer is one I wrote for my forthcoming book, Ash and Starlight: Prayers for the Chaos and Grace of Daily Life to be published later this year by Chalice Press. There are a few Scripture references following the prayer to which you can turn for even deeper comfort and connection with the One who holds you in your grief.

When I’m grieving a goodbye

Compassionate One,

Be with me in my goodbyes.

When I’m asked to

open my hands and

release what I’ve held –

held tightly–

place your peace

between the fingers.

Put your comfort in

the cracks and crevices

of my heart.

Use my falling tears

as nourishment for

this ground of grief,

bearing fruit for

a new season which

also promises sweetness.

Amen.

Matthew 5:4 * John 12:24 * Revelation 21:3-5

 

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into

the earth and dies, it remains just

a single grain; but if it dies, it

bears much fruit.” – John 12:24