Light

Dearest Doug,

You are so missed in church. Donna and I always remember you and Dennis sitting in our pew, whistling, singing with words real or imagined, tapping your feet. 

This blog has changed since I started - and isn't that the beauty of blogging? These are the words I wrote for and spoke in church recently. I am never not missing your physical presence in my daily life. 

Rev Dennis Landry

April 10th

It is always such an honour to be asked to lead these prayers. Sometimes I call them prayers for the people, and sometimes I call them prayers of the people. I think they are both - of and for - and I think that’s one of the many strengths of the St. Andrews Church community.

Let us pray together:

Oh Mystery that we call God, we give thanks for this community, and that we are able to gather together both in person and through the magic of technology.

In this part of the world, at this time of year, there is such a dramatic change in the way light fills our days. As winter ends, and we transition through spring towards summer, we are reminded of cycles - days, seasons, lives.

Patient God, help us sit with the early morning mist which hides a sunrise, or the slow reveal of a morning sky through thick cloud cover. Help us do more than look for the sun, but also smell the new growth and listen for the songs of returning birds. 

Help us, please, to trust what we can’t always see, to remember that you move in mysterious ways, to hold tight to the faith we have in you and your plan for us. Help us start our days with determination and confidence to do our very best, and then help us to have the difficult conversations, make the seemingly impossible choices, do the hard work.

Loving God, help us pause during the busy morning routine to look outside as the sun rises above the horizon and bathes our view with the radiant glow of the magic hour. Help us remember to pause through the day and face what it is we might otherwise turn away from. And remind us too that we can see things from a very different perspective than others, but we need only pay attention in order to find the thread that will bind us together. Help us listen. Help us love.

Generous God, ground us, please, in the moment. The sunlight catches diamonds in the last of the snow, and also frames reflections in the first edges of open water. These are the days of late winter - almost summer - early spring - back to winter. The overcast day is as precious as the postcard perfect blue sky day. Let us close our eyes and hear the rain, stick out our tongues like children to taste it, jump in puddles along the sidewalk. 

Without losing sight of the moment we are in, help us too, anticipate what may come next. When the rain passes there might be a rainbow, there will be flowers. God, gardens of sunflowers will hold deeper meaning for me this summer than every before; thank you for such a simple yet profound, constant constant constant reminder of Ukraine, and of the work we must do to end that war. 

Gracious God, as our days begin to close and the sun starts to set, take us back outside to experience the hazy light of the evening magic hour, when we still feel the warmth of the day’s sun on our face. Fill us with optimism and with hope.

Merciful God, please hear the names we are saying now, both aloud and silently in our hearts, and know we are asking for your help in giving our light and yours, our love and yours, our hope and faith and healing healing and yours, to these loved ones. 

Karin, Tim, Monique, Joyce, Doug  (*silence)

Beloved God, we know that “hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that” (MLK). Help us all to be that light, reflecting your light into our world.

These are our prayers.  Amen

And p.s. Mum reminded me that Paul, the apostle, taught us “Faith is the evidence of things not seen” and so with patience we may discern your path for us.