Pour out your Holy Spirit, to bless this gift of water and we who receive it. May it nurture us, even if we feel impossibly buried in the earth. As we drink in this water, help us break through our seed coat. Transform us, making the deserts and wilderness within us like Eden, that we might join in Christ’s gardening work, tending to the world around us.

We might still be waiting for Jesus to call us by name, to call us to hope and new life after this horrible tragedy. So let us keep waiting, let us hang on to the color of the wheat, let us find comfort in our own knowledge that death cannot quench love.

I wrote this communion liturgy to be honest about the strangeness of these times but also to celebrate those moments when we feel the Spirit pouring out over us. Even now she is offering us abundant grace. Can we perceive it?

Aaron and I have moved to a new church, meaning we also have a new house. As we have struggled with such grief especially this last year, we wanted to bless our new home, to claim the space for good. It will be years before everything is unpacked enough for a house warming party. So we decided to ask our friends and family to come and bless our house now, knowing their presence will make it more a home than unpacking anyway. What follows was created by me using liturgy and inspired by conversation led by Rev. Dr. Suzanne Duchesne for a group she calls the Luscious Ladies of Liturgy.

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel commanded. God is waking us up, now, today. How many of us are still asleep, trapped in nightmares that obscure the dream God has for us? Or how many of us are still asleep, too comfortable in our own dreams to pay attention to the life God calls us to? We have forgotten God's commandments, wrapped up in the sleep. Let us respond as Joseph did, turning our hearts to God:

We call this day Good Friday, but what is good about it? It is a day in which the weight of the suffering absorbs our own suffering, where we see how much pain is borne in one body, where everything, everything is subsumed in the darkness. We see brokenness, in the body on the cross, in the betrayal of Judas, the denial of Peter, the mocking by the soldiers. We see the brokenness in ourselves.

Who would we be in this story? What brokenness is ours tonight? Where do we see ourselves?