POETRY from https://liturgies4life.substack.com

May spring return to you 
little by little each lightening day, 
in small, forgiving signs:
a green shoot springing up from earth, 
a morning warm enough for bare arms, 
a bird preening on a distant branch, 
a feather turning slowly through the air.

May you remember 
that the world is not made safe 
by your fear of it.

May your heart race 
and still carry you forward. 
May your hands tremble 
and still find the handlebars. 
May you pause when you need to, 
listen to the warning in your body, 
and continue only when you are ready.

Bless the paths that open 
around the tall gums. 
Bless the companions who call, 
“INCOMING!” 
and stay close until the danger passes.
Bless the creatures who defend 
what they love, 
even when their love arrives 
with sharp beaks and beating wings.

And when something soft 
falls unexpectedly into your keeping, 
may you receive it as a sacred gift
that holds a lesson especially for you
in this particular season. 

May you enter this spring 
with courage tucked into your pocket— 
small, imperfect and weightless,
and may you discover 
that you can be afraid 
and go back (or forward)
anyway.

Into the Ordinary: Pentecost 3

Following Pentecost, the liturgical calendar moves us into Ordinary Time: an ordered sequence of weeks between the major feast days of the Christian year which allow Christian communities to reflect on the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit, to embody the mission of Jesus, and to grow in our discipleship.

JUNE: Becoming

Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7); Psalm 116:1-2,12-19; Romans 5:1-8; 
Matthew 9:35-10:8,(9-23)

Hospitality becomes holy work as Abraham and Sarah offer welcome to weary strangers through concrete gifts of water, bread, shade, and attentive presence. Yet, the good news of God’s promise is hard for Sarah to hear in the reality of her “written off” body; her laughter holds together desire, disappointment, and the vulnerability of long waiting for unanswered prayers.

Meanwhile, Paul proclaims a peace grounded in Christ’s love for us “while we were still weak,” the Psalmist pours out his gratitude to Yahweh who has “rescued me from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from stumbling,” and Jesus is so moved with compassion for the “harassed and dejected” crowds that he sends his disciples out to visit, listen, proclaim good news, and heal while making themselves dependent on the welcome of community for food and shelter.

God meets people at the margins of possibility – barrenness, weakness, hopelessness- to form mission-shaped communities through shared tables, peace, risk, and even the laughter that is part-hope and part-despair.

PrayerPoem

God of the tent flap lifted to strangers, 
train our hearts in the holiness of welcome. 
When we are tired and tight-fisted, remind us: 
you arrive disguised as need, 
as ordinary as bread, 
as interruption. 
As Sarah laughs – half hope, half grief – hold our longings without shame. 
Let promise find us in the places we have given up on. 
Christ, you walk the villages, 
noticing who has been missed, 
gathering the scattered into good news. 
Send us too as companions with open hands. 
Pour your love into our tired bloodstream, 
love that meets us “while we were still weak,” 
love that makes peace more than a feeling ….
Make our tables wide, 
our thresholds soft, 
our words sturdy with hope. 
Teach us to heal without hurry, 
to proclaim without pride, 
to depend on one another like daily bread.   

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Feel free to leave a comment below with your reflections or ways this week’s readings and prayer speak to your journey. You’re also invited to subscribe for weekly prayer-poem downloads and deeper reflections.

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