by Kate Kennington Steer, all images by Kate Kennington Steer,
The eye of the great God,
The eye of the God of glory,
The eye of the King of hosts,
The eye of the King of the living,
Pouring upon us
At each time and season,
Pouring upon us
Gently and generously,
Glory to thee,
Thou glorious Sun.
Glory to thee, thou Sun,
Face of the God of Life.
Alex Carmichael, Carmena Gadelica (III, 307)
One year on from my decision to trace the course of light through the natural seasons by intentionally marking the solstices, equinoxes and cross-quarter days. What strands can I pull free from all I have written about these pinnacle points of this year’s light so I can embed them into my becoming? Trace the colours:
At Beltaine, fresh lime, pea and peridot greens emerged under pale, finespun gold; strengthened into curling petals of mauve and lavender, a froth of white and cream at the Summer Solstice; fruited as tongues of ruby, vermillion, scarlet, fuschia pinks and reds at Lughnasa; flourished into burnished saffron and golden ochre at the Autumn Equinox; faded into dove grey, taupe and charcoal by Samhain; folded into midwinter’s depths of blueblack and indigo at the Winter Solstice; re-emerging as pewter, sepia and khaki by Imbolc; then as the number of hours of daylight reaches its’ crucial moment, an acid, chrome and orpiment yellow blaze of resurrection promise is released after the Spring Equinox. Height and angle, brightness and dimness, the endless balancing game between blue and yellow, between cold and heat: the hues and tones of every colour are mixed on the palette of light into infinite variety, year-in, year-out. This light continues even through the perpetual challenge of the physical and emotional ‘grey days’, the seeming endless blank of depression, a fog that threatens to overwhelm all memory of how things might be different: and yet it never quite eliminates the hope that this spiral of emerging colours, under the year’s changing arc of light, has imprinted the eternal in me.
And through it all comes the twist of fire to bind or loose, to distil or destroy, to dance with or lament through: the urgent wonder of turning aside to watch the burning bush and notice the whisper of Invitation, as encapsulated by Abba Moses in the desert: ‘why not become fire’? Why not let the fire of God burn through you? Why not let the fire of God reveal your essence? Why not let the fire of God light you up as beacon, as warning, as prophecy, as celebration, as companion, as guide, as protection, as succour, as lover, as … ? Fire’s trail reminds me to love the light in all its guises; it releases me to be passionate about loving colour and light in mind and body, heart and soul.
In the book of Isaiah, the I AM says, countless times: ’Now I Am revealing’… How do I notice the I AM? How do I notice the I AM in my now? Do I even notice the present tense of the I AM? What I AM light am I taking for granted today? Am I not seeing how the early morning snow, under heavy slate skies, became sparkling drips dropping from tree limbs, as mid-morning sun lit only the very extremities, the swelling tips of branches; how light-grey clouds suddenly massed and masked the differences between the clean windowsill and dusty cupboard top; how such heavy flatness became pierced through by midday glowings, fleeting and uncertain, highlighting the furze of greening birch trees on the hill at one moment, collapsing them into umber shadow the next? If I had not looked up – and out – a few times in the past few hours I would have missed all this plenitude.
Such sky-watching is possible at most moments, in most times, as I sit up in bed, unless the very thing I treasure as a contemplative photographer, my sensitivity to the I AM-light, becomes the condition I need to protect myself against (on those days I have to pull down black-out blinds to nurse a migraine or pull curtains to allow a weakened, weary body lie down quietly in the semi-dark and rest).
Such sky-watching has become the antidote to my self-entered preoccupations and the hamster-wheel of my ruminating mind. It immediately allows me to focus on the wonder of our created earth, and the abundance of minute details that Sophia dances before my eyes to demonstrate, time and again, that I am not alone; that the eternal I AM is present in all my details, if I have eyes to see.
Such sky-watching is also the corrective to my craving to see change. I am impatient for my healing from the chronic functional neurological disorder which has affected me for the past thirty years. I am desperate to see a permanent break in my cycles of clinical depression. I am longing to alter the patterns of self-sabotage and lack of self-compassion which dictate how I use (and fail to refuel) my precious, fragile energy source. I am incredibly fortunate to have a gifted counsellor and beloved friends who reflect back how my healing is happening, but if I ever need a cosmic reminder that change is happening I need only look out the window, and then look back into my mundane habitat with renewed vision.
Such sky-watching confirms in me my hunch that healing is about wholeness, not wellness. There may be little variation in the physical symptoms of my condition from one year to the next, but how I deal with those symptoms, how I understand and articulate my feelings about them, how they colour my relationship with my Source, is open to infinite shifts and adjustments, and will in turn, affect how I interact with the people and world around me.
Such sky-watching has become intricately linked with my determination to turn away from living a fear-filled life, to embodying a creativity-filled life, even if – especially if – most days I don’t leave my bed for more than an hour or two.
This too then, is what this year has brought me: a reconnection to the bedrock need for gratitude as a transforming force in my life. Sky-watching fills me with the wonder of a life based on abundance, not on lack. So there is plenty of material into which I can go ‘mining for gold’ as I have written about several times over the course of this last year. Sky-watching encourages my feeble faith to believe that there is always, always, a wonder for me to see, inside and outside of myself, if I will but continue to follow the path of Light, the one the God of Holy Surprises lays down before me, through every twist and turn.
This new bundle is on sale until May 11th and includes our best selling book, To Garden with God and The Gift of Wonder Prayer Cards.
By Lilly Lewin
EASTER CUP PRAYERS…
We are entering the 5th week of Easter. Eastertide runs til May 23rd this year when we celebrate Pentecost and pouring out of the Holy Spirit.
This week at thinplaceNASHVILLE, our house church community, we got outside and actually sat by the water at the “beach” and reflected on John 21 and Jesus cooking breakfast for his disciples.
It’s one of my favorite passages! I use it in my workshops to teach experiential worship… how to take a passage of scripture and make it interactive and multi-sensory. Each time I listen to or teach from this passage, I learn something new!
At thinplaceNASHVILLE, we practice Lectio Divina , listening to the passage read by three people and we use three different translations so we hear familiar passages in fresh ways. Lectio Divina enables the Holy Spirit to be the teacher and each person who listens receives the “sermon” they need to hear for that day.
Our house church meets on Sunday and Tuesday nights via Zoom. With two different groups, I have the gift of listening and learning from the passage twice each week. This week I was reminded of my need to drink from the CUP OF PROVISION and the CUP OF INVITATION.
NOW GET YOUR CUP TO PRAY WITH THE CUP OF PROVISION
CUP of PROVISION and ABUNDANCE
In JOHN 21, some of the disciples have gone fishing and fished all night, catching NOTHING. Then they notice Jesus on the beach and he invites them to fish on the other side of the boat. Jesus doesn’t just give Peter and his friends some fish, he provides an ABUNDANCE FISH! And not just fish, LARGE FISH! More than enough for them to have some to eat, and have some to sell to provide for themselves in the days ahead.
THE CUP OF PROVISION might also be called the cup of ABUNDANCE…
Do you and I remember that Jesus provides for us?
Do you and I remember that Jesus is the God of abundance, not scarcity?
HOLD YOUR CUP.
How has Jesus provided for you this week? This year? Take time to be thankful. Consider all the ways Jesus has provided for you throughout this last year in the midst of the pandemic.
How do you need Jesus to provide for you this week, and in the months ahead? Talk to Jesus about this.
Jesus already had fish cooking on the fire… he already had breakfast prepared for the hungry disciples who’d been up all night. He gave them breakfast and the abundant provision of the 154 BIG FISH.
Think about a time when Jesus already had breakfast ready for you. A time when you got somewhere or something happened that you just knew that Jesus had this all prepared ahead of time. How does it feel to know that Jesus knows what you need?
Are we drinking from the cup of abundance today or the cup of not enough?
As you drink from your cup today, continue to thank Jesus for his provision and make your cup a cup of abundance each day this week.
THE CUP OF INVITATION
THE CUP OF INVITATION
All of John 21 takes place after the trauma of the crucifixion with the uncertainty of what happens now that Jesus is resurrected. Peter returns to what is familiar, what makes sense, and what might make him some money too. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.
Maybe you are feeling like Peter and the disciples, it’s been a really long, weird season of COVID. Maybe you, too, are uncertain about what to do next.
TELL JESUS where you really are today
HOLD YOUR CUP and talk to Jesus about where you are and how you are really doing and feeling. What do you notice? What are you confused or frustrated about? What are you wondering about as you look ahead to the next season? Give Jesus these things to hold.
After breakfast, Jesus reminds Peter of his purpose. Jesus reinstates Peter after his betrayals. Jesus invites Peter to fish for people again… this time inviting him to feed his sheep. He reminds Peter of his calling. And says, FOLLOW ME.
Consider what Jesus has called, invited you to do in the Kingdom of God. Take time to thank him for this. How has it changed over the years?
What or how do you need to REDISCOVER the INVITATION OF JESUS IN YOUR LIFE?
How is Jesus inviting you to FOLLOW him again?
As you drink from your cup this week, Pray and ask how you are being invited on a new adventure with Jesus!
REMEMBER as my friend Pastor/Professor Frank Ponce says,
“Jesus has provision for the NEW REALITY he is inviting you into” and Jesus has abundant provision for the next leg of this adventure!
You are invited to Follow Again!
©lillylewin and freerangeworship.com
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by Laurie Klein
An annual date dedicated to celebrating trees
Say you have one day to live. This one. What would you do?
See the ocean? Meet your hero? Sky dive?
Perhaps you’d fund a new well in an African village. You might leave notes inside your books for future readers to find. You could pre-order a single rose, to be delivered each month to someone you love.
Renowned poet W. S. Merwin declared, “I’d plant a tree.”
When I read his answer, I pictured the literary giant’s final act taking root—literally—unfurling a legacy both sturdy and verdant. Talk about an encore.
Then I learned about his sideline.
Up until his death at 91, Merwin painstakingly restored 19 acres of wasteland in Maui, Hawaii. He and his wife regenerated thousands of native plants and trees—including one species considered technically extinct. “Putting life back into the world” enlivened him.
Merwin, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, embodied the spirit of Arbor Day. Dropping to his knees most afternoons for 35 years, a poet considered a “national treasure” established one of the most lush and diverse palm gardens on earth.
Today amid tropical breezes the Merwin Conservancy rustles and sways, home to the plover and Chinese thrush, whose songs join the endless anthem of arching fronds.
Do you sense a biblical echo? “And all the trees of the field will clap their hands,” Isaiah wrote.
Poet e. e. cummings praised “the leaping, greenly spirits of trees”—suggesting simultaneous dance, sport, and standing ovation.
An unknown psalmist, on the other hand, compares believers to trees: “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree . . . They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green.”
And doesn’t our faith’s ongoing renewal, by its very nature, suggest countless ways to leave our hallowed, harrowing world more vibrantly fertile?
By the Master Gardener’s design, vital commonalities link trees with humanity. Attentive, generous community helps both species not only survive, but thrive. People network via language, touch, and actions. Trees hook up via roots, exchange predator warnings, share water and nutrients—especially when one member struggles.
And we all struggle.
Last summer, my brilliant, beloved critique partner of 25 years was diagnosed with a vicious cancer: Multiple Myeloma. And then, a brain tumor. Her subsequent treatment amid pandemic protocols has precluded our meetings. Will we have a shared future? Many a ragged sigh has since escaped me while rambling nearby woodland, where towering pines offer resinous comfort and shade. There’s also tacit collaboration: I pray aloud, and the trees absorb my expelled carbon dioxide. Within bark and heartwood inert traces linger—a shared memory of breath.
One day, while picturing the countless reams of paper my friend and I have exchanged and recycled, I longed to meld, as Merwin had, the literary with the literal. When a writing award came my way, I invested in trees, planted in her name. Long may they and their descendants furnish paper for writers who will one day succeed us.
Now, more than ever, the earth needs trees. “Land given a chance will come back,” Merwin said. Arbor Day participants agree. The hands-on celebration dates back to 1872, when acclaimed journalist J. Sterling Morton inspired Nebraskan volunteers to plant over one million saplings, awarding prizes for the most trees planted by individuals and counties. Morton’s event caught on. His vision expanded. The following year, more states joined the effort—this time, on Morton’s birthday.
“Other holidays repose upon the past,” Morton wrote. “Arbor Day proposes for the future.”
Before long, the entire nation was involved—and thereafter, the world. I like to imagine tree limbs raised in pulsing applause for our Maker. Can’t you almost hear wind sonify the patter of aspen and cottonwood leaves? One grand timbered ovation.
To this day, tamping a tree’s tender roots into soil remains a radical, healing gesture of hope, born of the bended knee and the outstretched hand. The overflowing cup of cool water.
Across the planet people of all ages are sowing acorns, seedlings, and saplings. We’re picking up litter. Tending the land. Afterward, sunburnt and weary, nails grimed, many will raise a glass. Perhaps an old Irish blessing will come to mind:
A toast to your coffin:
May it be made of 100-year-old oak,
and may we plant the tree together . . . tomorrow.
If not a shovel and sapling, how might you sustain greener tomorrows?
We each have this day. What will you do?
***
Song: “Blessed Is the Man,” written and performed by Bill Klein.
- If you photograph nature, or write nature poetry, consider submitting your work here, where part of your submission fee goes toward planting trees.
- Visit the official Arbor Day website here.
- You might also like A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems, by Wendell Berry
Sources:
- https://merwinconservancy.org/about-w-s-merwin/
- https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/15/obituaries/w-s-merwin-dead-poet-laureate.html
- Photo: Laurie Klein
Spirituality of Gardening Online Course invites you to connect your senses and spirit with awe and wonder in the garden.
photo above and writing by Jean Andrianoff,
Our home in the Pacific Northwest lies across the road from waterfront property. Our neighbors on the other side of the road have stunning views of Puget Sound. Our view, on the other hand, is limited to a small peek-a-boo area through the trees.
by Jean Andrianoff
One morning recently, I walked out of the kitchen into the living room to be greeted by an intense blaze of light shining through the southeast side of the living room window as the rays of the rising sun reflected off the water. I had never before seen light coming from just that spot. My point of view at that particular moment perfectly revealed the glory of the sunlight on the water. The angle of the sun relative to the water and to the gap in the tree branches created the perfect perspective.
Perspective also matters when you attend a ballet or concert or sports event. There’s a reason tickets closer to the performance cost more. Twice in my life, I was privileged to attend a performance of the Bolshoi Ballet. The first time, I sat in the “nose-bleed” section of the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow, entranced by where I was and who was performing, but with only the most remote view of the performers. The second time, I was in the Thailand Cultural Center, where the Bolshoi had come to perform in honor of the Thai king’s 60th birthday. There, I could afford seats near the front, where the difference in perspective was breathtaking. I could see facial expressions and perceive the effort and skill required to create the illusion of weightlessness. From that viewpoint, I could appreciate the full glory and beauty of the performance.
Bolshoi Ballet – wikimedia commons (public domaiin)
On this side of eternity, our perception of the glory of God is limited. As God explained to Moses, no human can see His face, or the fullness of His glory, and live. Jesus showed mankind glimpses of God’s glory, but He wants more for us. He wants us to see the full extent of that glory, a glory that we will ultimately reflect (2 Corinthians 3:18). In His final prayer for all believers, Jesus prayed:
Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world (John 17:24, ESV).
His desire is that we may stand with Him in Heaven where we will enjoy the perfect perspective of God’s glory as we gaze at Jesus, our perception no longer constrained by human limitations. As Jesus acknowledged, His glory is a love-gift from God. Jesus wants to pass along that love so that we may perceive His glory and, as we see it, ultimately to reflect it.
This new bundle is on sale until May 11th and includes our best selling book, To Garden with God and The Gift of Wonder Prayer Cards.
by Sue Duby,
I’ve been pondering. If you ask Chuck, I do that a lot. Maybe wondering how I can squeeze yet another flowering plant in the garden. Or how to create dinner out of what’s left in the “need to go shopping soon” refrigerator. Perhaps hunting for a new walking trail we’ve yet to discover. My mind stays busy – all day, every day!
Today, my thoughts keep looping back to a question. Not related to circumstances in the moment or things looming on the calendar. Just a question that won’t go away. I know the nudge and beckoning when that happens. An invitation by Him to pause, wait, explore a bit deeper and trust He will bring clarity. Look for reminders in the daily. So, the question. . . “What does LOVE look like?”.
Yesterday, 12-year-old grandson, Sam, came over to hang out before his basketball practice. Always a delight and I know the first question to ask… “So… what would you like for dinner?”. Always, the same answer… “Mac and cheese!!”. Not the boring old box kind. But the “we make it together from scratch” kind. It’s our thing. Cooking and experimenting as a team.
Sam never forgets to add his own request. “So, what weird thing can I try this time?”. Chuck’s pickled mushrooms in the frig rated a big “Yuck!”. Then I pulled out a ginger root and we crafted some Ginger Lemonade. Success in the making, but it earned sorry faces from the two of us. Chuck loved it!
With adventures complete, Chuck and Sam headed for the garage en route to the basketball courts. Suddenly, Sam pivoted around and ran over to me. With a spontaneous hug and “I love you, Nana!”, he left to follow Chuck. Not without a second, “Love you Nana!” before disappearing out the door.
I smiled… with a warm heart. Somehow, making cheese sauce, boiling noodles, chopping ginger and squeezing lemons filled Sam… time, attention and care. As he got filled, love spilled over to me.
With the crazy times we’re all navigating, my heart reminds me often that I want to love well in the midst. Be a place of calm in the storm. Listen to other’s stories. Guard my words. Follow His lead in encouraging others. With that, I also realize the key truth… I can’t do any of it without first understanding His love for me… and from that I will be able to love others well. I want my love to be a “spill over” of His love for me… much like Sam’s love spilled over to me.
Psalm 139 so clearly details the kind of “spill over love” He promises us.
1 You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
- You have searched me (you’ve checked me all out! I can’t hide anything from You)
- You know me (such freedom in being fully known – every thought, action, secret… all of me!)
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
- You know when I sit & rise (watching, aware of me, never out of Your sight)
- You perceive my thoughts (You understand my thinking… and all my pondering!)
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
- You understand with clarity all my movements (always watching, your eye is upon me)
- You are familiar with ALL my ways (even things I’m not aware of!)
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
5 You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
- You know all my words before they are spoken (going before me – always)
- You hem me in (picture a child snuggly tucked in bed for the night -safety!)
- You lay Your hand on me (reminding me of Your presence)
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
- You are everywhere I ever go (there is nowhere I can escape Your love and presence with me)
- Your hand guides me (leading the way, I’m never alone finding next steps)
- Your hand holds me “fast” (not just a loose grip, but totally secure)
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
- You are with me in the darkness (I’m never hidden from You; even when I can’t “see” or “feel” Your presence, You are there)
13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
- You created me… “knit” me in Mother’s womb (Your design, fashioning and creative hand… intentional and purposed)
- Your works are wonderful (that means I am wonderful!)
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
- You watched me develop (again I’ve never been hidden from You)
- You’ve written all my days in Your book (I can relax. You have my life, start to finish!)
Now that is some kind of love! Fills me to the brim and more… when I truly allow the truth to settle deeply in my heart. Enough for plenty to “spill over” to whomever crosses my path. As long as I remember to remember the depth and breadth of His love for me.
May we be joyful “spill over” people… all day, every day… as we continually marvel in His gracious love for each of us.
PS – Sam gave me permission to tell his story ☺
Photo by Greggalas.fr from Pexels
Spirituality of Gardening Online Course invites you to connect your senses and spirit with awe and wonder in the garden.
by Christine Sine
Yesterday, my morning contemplation was derailed by a book… and a novel at that. It is called The Dictionary of Lost Words, and tells the story of Esme whose father is one of a group of lexicographers who are collecting words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary. One day, as Esme sits under the table where they work, a word flutters to the ground. She rescues it, discovering that the word means slave girl and so begins a delightful adventure in which the rescuing of words becomes the center of Esme’s life. She realizes that the words and meaning relating to the lives of women and ordinary peoples’ experiences were often deliberately ignored by this and subsequent groups of dictionary men who consciously or unconsciously worked to shape the dictionary based on their own view of the world.
So, Esme complies her own dictionary – The Dictionary of Lost Words, a title and a story that deeply impacted me. A couple of years ago, I read another fascinating book, Landmarks by Robert McFarlane. He, too, was a gatherer of lost words, mainly, words about nature. He, too, discovered that when the Junior Oxford Dictionary, was updated a few years ago, some words were deliberately removed and others added. All those removed had to do with nature, and those added were about technology. He talked about how our loss of descriptive words for nature meant that we are losing “a literacy of the land” and, as a result, see nature more as a thing that does something for us rather than something to us so it easily becomes “more vulnerable to unwise use and improper action.” Our selective use of language, he argues, has “stunned the world out of wonder”.
As I thought about this yesterday, I was reminded that throughout history we have deliberately “lost” words and languages as an intentional way to suppress cultures and races. Terrible, you might think, but we all consciously or unconsciously “lose” words so that the world around us reflects our own world view or so that we can fit into the worldview of those in power over us. We consciously or unconsciously judge people accordingly. We love that English has become a universal language, but rarely think about the impact on other languages and their cultures. Even the English that is acceptable is shaped by those in power, once by Britain and now by America, and by white America, at that. That is the English we view as superior, we teach it at school, and we expect people to speak it in order to get a high paying job.
I must confess that when I first travelled to non-English speaking countries, I was relieved that I did not need to learn another language. I could easily and lazily communicate, unconsciously communicating my superiority to those around me. Even the English I used, grounded in a university education, was more complex and difficult to understand than what some of my colleagues used. Changing my language so that others understood me was called “dumbing down” the language. I was definitely superior. My use of words said so.
Christian world views, too, are defined by language. In conservative circles, one only calls God, Father. In more progressive circles, one calls God everything but Father. All of us, I feel, have lost the rich array of words we could embrace to describe the Creator of the universe.
Love Your Neighbour – Create A New Dictionary of Lost Words
Has it ever occurred to you that loving your neighbour could mean loving their language as you love your own? Could loving your neighbour mean helping them rediscover their own language with pride?
Imagine how fun it could be to create a new dictionary of lost words, one that helps all of us keep cultures and nature alive and vital. Maybe one of the spiritual practices we all need for the future is to rediscover a lost word each day and then use it at least 5 times each day for the next week. Or we could help someone else rediscover a word that our superior attitude towards them has forced them to discard from their language. The challenge would be learning how to adopt that word into our own vocabulary without making our friend feel put down or ridiculed. Wow this dictionary of lost words could be quite a challenge.
Here are a few prayerful exercises for you to consider over the next week:
- Make a list of 10 words you used as a child but have lost from your current vocabulary. Which ones would you like to transform into “found” words? What is one step you could take to make that happen?
- When I left Australia and settled in the U.S I had to lose some of my favourite words like “fair dinkum, G day and arvo. Talk to a friend from another English speaking culture. What are words they have lost in order to fit into your culture? In what ways could you help them embrace these words again?
- If you are white, talk to a black friend. What are words they have had to lose from their vocabulary in order to feel accepted in white society and be able to get a job? How has this made them feel? How could you learn from them about how to reintegrate these words into not just their culture but into your’s as well? If you are black you might like to have this conversation with a white friend and help them to understand what you have had to give up in order to fit into white society.
- In your Christian worldview what are the acceptable words for God? Speak to a friend with another Christian perspective. Make a list of 10 words that are acceptable to them that have been “lost” from your Christian world view. What do you feel you have lost by not using these words? Choose 2 of these words. What are ways that you could comfortably reintroduce these words into your language?
Another beautiful Taize style service from St Andrews Episcopal church in Seattle. Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.
Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with license #A-710-756
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