This week has been hard. We’ve moved through emotions of











Where are you today? What can you confess as the highest riding emotions and thoughts surrounding two young men, in a country not their own, bombing an event of courage and strength, catching the innocent with shrapnel, taking lives, endangering so very many people?

I am not in Boston. I did not lose one close to me. I’ve watched from afar as my own reactions were on lock down.

Do I dare feel what I feel? Disgust at what one human is willing to do to another?

Do I dare voice what I want to lean into? That we are to love our enemies? A woman and mother of young children who I follow on facebook wrote two things this week: 1) that she had to explain why someone would make a bomb and kill a little boy, 2) what would this world look like if we who follow Jesus actually followed Jesus and loved our enemies?

Indeed: why and what would.

I can only offer up this prayer.


O God on high,

Come down to us.

We have heard your echos as we watched courage run toward disaster, as we watched focused efforts to limit more trauma.

Can we get a little more here, please?

A mother must bury a child who is labeled a terrorist, must face her own whereabouts as her 19 year old holds the world’s hate in his hands.

A runner must relearn life without limbs.

A family must do something with a gaping hole left by their 8 year old son, who had just been cheering Dad across the finish line.

If we are your hands in this world, what do we do when all of our hands feel stained? What if the hate and disbelief do not wash off, instead, sticks to our flesh like blasts of gore. Do we really want to wash them clean?

Know us.

Love us.

Heal us.


My enemy is not just a young boy from Chechnya, a country I couldn’t even spell until two days ago. But he is an enemy. My enemy may be my neighbor on any other day, as I am burnt with their vociferous hate, their spewed righteousness, their unending desire for revenge in the name of something nameless.

You are our Name. You, O Creator Redeemer Sustainer are more than we can comprehend, in a week that we cannot comprehend.

So, here are my hands, opened to you, to my neighbor, to that grieving mother, to those who build bombs and those who are blasted away. May the stains of sorrow and hope be not washed away too soon.


Trustingly, within incomprehension, we pray. Amen.

(copywrite 2013)


What flows from you?

If you were to be a flowing channel of something, what would it be? If what came from you would fill your whole home, city, state, waterways, country, ocean, globe…..what would you have that something be?

We are connected to energy in the creative sphere of space and time. Right now, stretch your nondominant hand up above your head….as far up as you can reach. The stretch will feel good….(you’re welcome)….. I imagine a band of electrically charged movement. Blues, silvers, whites, streaks, ribbons, bursts, waves…..moving moving moving…..and this is universal energy to tap into. The collective unconscious. The shared experience. Sacred Space. It is where synchronicity is born, where connections are made, where books are written, where dreams are formed. We can stretch and dip into this space. I stretch and wiggle my fingers into it. I pull threads of creative joy down into my life.

And I imagine a flow of love and calm moving into me, filling me, overflowing from me into my whole home, my city, my state, my waterways, my country, our oceans, our globe. I do not generate this love on my own, I’m just reaching into the ribbon of charged energy above my head, as though the veils of dimensions part allowing me into a secret……and it flows down and through and outward.

What is the essence, YOUR ESSENCE, which you would have flowing from you into this world?


God of the jubilant spheres,

vibrating with a humming buzz

meet our fingertips when we dare to

stretch into your presence.

We would be your bodies in this world.

We would be your love in this world.

Open to us

Charge us with bursts of Light.