Wednesday Prayers: Don't Watch the Film

I love Inside the Actor's Studio. I love it even when I don't care for an actor's body of work. It's about hearing people's stories.

When Johnny Depp was interviewed, he said that he doesn't watch the films he's in. More specifically, he said that after he's wrapped, "it's none of my business what the filmmaker does with it."

As a spiritual director, I have to really work at remembering that the big picture is not up to me. In fact, it's none of my business. One of the best sessions I ever took part in was while I was training-- my directee used a metaphor to talk about her situation the whole time we were talking. I never knew what her specific struggle was, and I didn't need to. I'm there to ask questions, God's there to lead her deeper into them. What follows isn't any of my business.

Maybe that's true for everything. We do our part, we respond to God's call, and then we forget about the completed film. If we're honest with ourselves, we know we're never going to know the whole story, anyway; we will do good in ways we will never realize, and we'll hurt unknowingly.

So my prayer this week is to be attentive to my role, and let go of the finished picture. What's your prayer this week?

Wednesday Prayers: Light in the Rearview Mirror

I was talking to an old college friend a couple of months ago, and she said to me (about a particularly difficult time in my life) something about my wishing I'd never gone through the whole thing.

I was caught entirely off guard. I'd never felt that way. There were times, in the midst of it, that I wished it was going differently, but it never occurred to me to wish it hadn't happened. There were good pieces and bad, but the things I discovered in myself during the difficult pieces were invaluable. I feel sturdier now, I know myself better, trust myself more, and have more peace.

In addition to those perks, I also have more confidence in God. I look back on two specific phases in my life that were unusually hard, and in retrospect, can see God in them. I could not, necessarily, at the time. Now I feel like I can anticipate that hindsight (did you follow that?), which may help to carry me through other hard times when I don't see God.

I talked to my spiritual director about this yesterday morning, and then later in the day found this poem:

We travellers, walking toward the sun, can't see
Ahead, but looking back the very light
That blinded us shows us the way we came,
Along which blessings now appear, risen
As if from sightlessness to sight, and we
By blessing brightly lit, keep going toward
That blessed light that yet to us is dark.
-Wendell Berry, from Given

Isn't that gorgeous? The more I read it, the more joy it brings me.

So, I'm feeling good about what lies behind, but would still like prayers for discernment-- not so much for the big picture of what lies ahead, but one-day-at-a-time discernment, the kind that keeps me close to God in each moment. I'd love your prayers for me in that.

Are there any ways that you need prayers to keep you "going toward that blessed light that yet to us is dark?"

Some Small Thoughts on Meditation

A lovely woman I know wants to learn more about meditation, and that has me thinking about my own practice. I thought I'd share some of the bits and pieces that I've cobbled together over the years. It doesn't make up a totally orthodox whole of any kind, but it's valuable to me. Some parts I've gotten from books, others from classes and teachers, and still others simply through the practice itself.

• Meditation (or "quiet time" as I call mine, given that it's a generally a blend of meditation and prayer) is hard. It looks like doing nothing, but it's unfamiliar. Most of us are unaccustomed to silence. Some of us (most? all?) are afraid of what might arise in us when we sit down without distractions. If only in this one area, this is the place to be gentle and patient with ourselves.
• It helps to start small. Whether starting for the first time, or picking back up after a long hiatus, it's nice to start with about 5 minutes. One can always add more time. This is exactly the kind of thing where being respectful of where I really am in my life, instead of where I wish I was is important.
• I learned very early on that it can be very difficult for me to take quiet time for myself when there are other people home. This tends to be true for women, for caretakers, and for extroverts. I also learned that a parked car by a lake or stream can be a great alternative.
• I like to set a timer. I'm pretty compulsive about time, and this helps me to let go of the need to check up on myself. If it's the kind that ticks, I put it in a drawer or cupboard so that I only hear the "Ding!"
• I sit either in a comfortable chair, with both feet on the ground, or else on the floor, with my legs crossed in front of me. I like to hold my hands palms-up, as I discovered in yoga that it's a more open position than hands-down. (A little secret: I do this when I'm listening to people, too. It helps me remember to be open to them, and to let myself be open.)
• Breathing is so simple that, like much of what happens during quiet time, it's easy to underestimate. Just noticing breath, paying attention to it, helps us to be present (which is what we hope for-- present to ourselves, present to the divine).
• I store up emotions in all kinds of places. When I'm angry but feel powerless, my arms tingle. When I'm scared, I often tuck my thumbs into my fists. When I feel very peaceful, my hips feel heavy, like they're rooted in the floor. When I sit down for quiet time, I like to mentally scan my body, looking for tension and relaxing where I find it. I start at the top of my head, and work down slowly to my feet. Clenched places for me tend to be my forehead, my shoulders, my arms, my tongue. This varies for everyone.
• Once I've done a body scan and am paying attention to my breathing, other thoughts will come to mind. That's OK, of course that happens! But it's good to be able to let those thoughts drift by, floating past like a cloud, or a leaf in a stream. If they're worries, we can address them later (provided the house isn't on fire!). This time is a special gift where there's no need to "fix" anything. (I know I'm guilty of thinking that by investing the energy of worry, I'm "fixing" things. It's not true, but it's taking me a long time to unlearn.)
• Sometimes thoughts of clarity or insight come during quiet time, but it's good to let those drift by, too. If I need them, I remember them. I don't need to scurry like a squirrel, hoarding wisdom for winter.
• In addition to focusing on breath, sometimes I sit with a word, a small phrase, or an image. I often think of God's love as a particular color of light, and I'll sit for my time, picturing myself surrounded by that light. Other times, if someone has been on my mind, I'll picture them in that light. Any word can be used-- "peace" or "love" are often suggested, but I've found that the word I'm led to sit with can be surprising. It's good to trust God and myself enough to sit with an unexpected word. There have been times I use one word on my inhale, and another on my exhale-- "worry" out and "trust" in is a pair I often return to.
• In the beginning, I needed solitude and NO DISTRACTIONS for quiet time. Now, I find myself taking it in odd places-- in the doctor's waiting room, in a long line at the grocery store. I've found so much joy in being present in those common places.
  
• One last point-- it's not always going to "work." I have to respect where I am, and not try to wrestle myself to get quiet. For me, it's best to let go before frustration takes over, and return to try again later.

I'm sure I've left things out--these are just some initial thoughts.

Mrs. M Ruminates on Her Heart's Desire

Yesterday over lunch at 5 Guys, Mr. M asked me what my vocational discernment is like right now, and a crystal-clear response popped out of my mouth before I even had time to think about it: I feel called to Spiritual Direction, but to something else, too.

I am blowing big raspberries at the institutional church right now, there's no way around that truth. I get that it's a human institution, and thereby can't help being flawed. But sometimes I feel like there's a gaping chasm between the stated mission and the de facto mission observed in the life of the church. It's not even that we're striving for holiness and missing the mark, but that we've lost sight of the mark entirely. Mary Beth writes about frustration and sorrow. Carol Merritt Howard tells a horrendous story of call that, frankly, didn't even surprise me.

But...
I don't think we're meant to only live out our faith individually. I can't reconcile that with my theology. Coming together to know God better, to love God and each other so that we can carry that love everywhere with us-- this is overwhelming. This is what we're here to do.
And church is exciting to me, it sings out to me, both spiritually and intellectually-- worship that conveys what we believe and reaches out to all our senses and sensibilities, or even worship that demonstrates how what we really believe is different from what we say we believe-- this is enthralling stuff. (Would someone let me study and then teach Liturgy someday? That would be fantastic.).

Can we find a way to be different from corporations? Less concerned with prestige, and more committed to lifting up everyone? Aren't we called to be servants first, and not CEOs? I've seen congregations that work this way, but is it possible in a larger context?

I worry that this sounds like sour grapes. But I don't think I'm wrong.

Not Right Now

I think this must be my year of learning to listen to myself, and I am immensely grateful for it. A big part of listening has been discovering the freedom of saying no, and I'm sure this isn't going to be the last time I share about it.

I'd been anxious about a friendship for months, frustrated and angry with my friend for certain choices, and with myself for not being able to muster more support. I didn't discuss this with my friend, but I didn't want to discuss anything else, either. I was impatient with myself, analyzing my feelings and not coming up with much. Was there some transference going on, making this less about my friend than my own past situations? Was I being intolerant? I would be embarrassed to tell you how much time I spent fussing with myself over this. I didn't want to stop wrestling with myself, because I didn't want to lose the relationship forever.

Finally, late at night when I was trying to sleep, I came to I am not able to be a good friend to this person right now. It was the most matter-of-fact thought in the world. It wasn't an indictment or an accusation, it was just an acknowledgment of the way things were. It was also permission to take some space, and through that permission I felt peace about the situation. Not everyone needs me to be their chief cheerleader all the time. It's OK for me to take a break if I don't have it in me. Trying to push my way through those feelings, ignoring them, would have made the situation worse. Taking space gave me exactly what I needed. Being able to say no (to my own expectations of myself) gives me more freedom. When I can detatch with love from my own turbulence, I can practice the same with others. Not surprisingly, once I accepted my limitations, I felt much more comfortable with my friend.

I was afraid that letting go would mean cutting off, and it's not the same thing. Sometimes we have to let go of things forever, but other times it's more like the tide going out, and returning in due time.

Losing Souls

In my young evangelical days, I heard Mark 8:36 a lot: What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?" It was usually understood as the undoing of a one-time salvation. Descent into the fiery pits, eternal separation from God, afterworld-y stuff.

The verse came to mind recently, though, as I was chatting with one of my favorite girlfriends. We were talking about people who make us angry (so angry we can feel it in our bodies), and we agreed that there's a point where we just have to let it go-- for the sake of our own souls. Please don't get me wrong-- I respect anger as a helpful roadmarker, one that lets me know something is deeply Not As It Should Be. But to stew in it, and let it mingle with resentment and hate... that's an entirely different beast. I'm coming to believe that our soul isn't something we lose once, irrevocably, but rather our truest self, which we lose track of many times, in many ways-- through fear, worry, hostility, hate, condescension.

I also believe it's something we can receive back. Last month, at the closing ceremonies of Spiritual Director's training, each of us spoke briefly about what the program had been to us. I shared that when I began, I felt as though I had lost my voice. Two years later, buoyed by the love of a wonderful community, it was coming back. A very dear friend (the kind who's family, even though he's not related) told me later that I hadn't lost my voice at all-- I just couldn't hear it for myself for a little while. Maybe that's the best possible definition of spiritual direction-- having someone to hear your voice. And I believe that through it, God saves our souls, and restores love, kindness, freedom, trust, and joy.

Amputation of Anxiety

For the last few weeks, it's felt as though my mistakes have been made with a Sharpie, and my successes in invisible ink. I've been wandering around muttering to myself, "Where is the invitation in this?" (a favorite spiritual direction question). There are a lot of answers to that, but one of them is this: all day long, from friends, families, coworkers, clients, and strangers, we each get a barrage of "you're not doing things well enough." All of us. So I'm thinking about how absolutely necessary it is that when we share God with one another, we share God's grace, perspective, and patience. But even when we know that God is patient, kind, and keeps no record of wrongs (God being love, and all), the hailstorm of criticism, impatience and fear continues, and we continue to internalize it.

Which brings me to NPR. During my morning commute today, I heard this incredible story about phantom limb pain, and how it can be resolved. People with amputated limbs sometimes experience feeling, and even pain, in limbs they no longer have. You can imagine how frustrating this might be-- how do you treat an imaginary injury? Neurologists decided to try tricking the brain with a mirror, and this gave some relief. After continued treatments, though, the phantom limb disappeared! In one case, 11 years after an amputation, the phantom limb was finally gone.

As I listened to this story, I thought about the things we carry that don't need to be part of us-- anxiety, perfectionism, etc. I thought about the mirroring of God's love that a good spiritual director does, and how it teaches us first to interact with the phantoms, and then to let them go.

What a joy it is to give and receive the love that brings relief from pain.

Gifts

I've been keeping journals, mostly as a form of prayer, at least since I was a sophomore in high school. I write in them, fill them up (or decide that I want to move on to the next one, and tear the last few pages out-- I'm ok with this, sometimes you're in a whole new book), and then never look at them again. This is partly because my perspective changes (e.g., at the time, I thought Thing A was a stupid thing to do, and in retrospect, it's a really fond memory. Or the same thing, reversed.), but also because I've bought into this crazy myth that the progress of our wisdom is linear. Surely, I'm further along than I was then. Surely Di at 16 and Di at 20 cannot have anything to say to Di at 29.

But God is SUCH a loving nag. "Hey, honey-- how about you start thumbing through some of those old journals?"

No.

"Hey. I think it might be a good idea for you to go back and look at some of our old conversations."

No.

"Look, kid. I'm telling you this because it's better than you think. It's going to help. You're going to like it. Go do it."

Oh. Well. In that case...

And yes, there were things that I giggled about, and things that made me cringe just a little. But I noticed something striking-- pages and pages of "thank yous"-- sometimes for easy good things, and other times for places where I struggled, but could see beginning shimmers of good.

When everything I see has a bit of God-gift in it, I also see that God is enormous and abundant and cherishes me. Di at 16 and Di at 20 did indeed have something to say.

Learning from Anger

I've only very recently begun to understand anger as a useful tool. About a year ago, maybe more, I told my spiritual director how upset I'd been feeling with someone who was very important to me. She asked if there was any physical way that I noticed those feelings, and I realized that when I got angry, my arms felt tingly and uncomfortable. That cue became incredibly helpful for recognizing my feelings-- there were times that I didn't realize I was angry until I noticed how uncomfortable my arms were!

Growing up, anger was not something I was allowed to show. Anger was rebellious, disobedient, insubordinate, and not to be tolerated. Anger meant there was something wrong with me. I've finally come to learn that anger is often a tool to show me that something really is wrong with the situation. Instead of fighting my anger, I see it as a flashlight, illuminating the circumstances so that I can see that something needs to change.

Yesterday, someone was very angry, and it felt disproportionate. I didn't feel responsible for that person's anger (that alone was amazing), but I thought about it for most of the day. As I journaled last night, I realized that what's true for me is also true for others: she was angry because something was wrong in her world. It's likely the situation was part of that wrong-ness, but it's just as likely that it was a piece of a larger whole.

This conclusion-- that it wasn't about me, that something she was experiencing felt wrong for her, gave me a really new outlook on other people's anger. I feel more comfortable with it, more patient and more understanding.

It is, of course, distinctly possible that I'm a little slow on the uptake with this realization, and it's stating the obvious for most people. For me, though, it was a long time coming, and a gift from God.

In Defense of Joy

Coffeepastor started a recent post with a quote that ended thus, "Bonhoeffer wondered whether it is possible to embrace God out of love and lightness of heart, out of a seduction that is caught up in the call of God rather than the need of God." - Peter Rollins, The Fidelity of Betrayal

This talk of "love and lightness of heart" reminds me of a meeting I had with a Spiritual Direction group recently, where one person was sharing about newly found joy. The group kept asking questions until finally they came upon something in that person's life that was still painful, and *that's* when they felt like they had identified the part that was spiritual.

We need to start valuing joy. It's not just pain that's real. It seems to be broadly acknowledged that sharing painful experiences is an act of vulnerability, but I believe we have come to a place where sharing our joy also leaves us feeling exposed and uncertain. Our joys abide in the deepest parts of ourselves, and they're tender places. Will you treat my most valued things as precious, or will you dismiss them? Will you rejoice with me, or be threatened by what I've found?

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn," writes Paul in his letter to the Romans. Most of us know when to extend a tissue and a gentle word, but thanks be to God for the one who also knows when to join the laughter and dancing.

More Dots

• I ran across an appalling fictitious letter from Focus on the Family (I found it on someone's blog, can't remember whose now. Sorry about the lack of attribution.) I can't find a link on Focus's website, nor am I seeing articles about it in the vile MSM, so I'm just assuming it's real. At any rate, it's infuriating. It reminds me again how sad I am for most Muslims that so many associate them with extremists. I certainly hate the idea of being associated with this brand of Christianity.
• Mr. M and I are having a "What's Next?" date on Friday. We don't expect to come out of it with answers, but it'll be a nice time to see if we're even asking the same questions.
• I'm thinking about seminary. Not much more to share than that, but I'm thinking about it. No idea where or how. Loving that some schools have a joint MDiv/JD plan, but cannot imagine how I'd use it. Or, you know, pay for it. ;)
• I'm still reading Gerald May's Dark Night of the Soul. It's on my reading list for class, tho I am going through the syllabus out of order. The book is wonderful, and goes on my long list of support that I'm feeling lately. Isn't it wonderful to remind outselves that people who have since been canonized really struggled? May talks about Theresa of Avila and John of the Cross, neither of whom were popular with their church. In Theresa's case, it's particularly interesting to read about her learning to trust herself.
• Carla Bruni's latest album, Comme Si De Rien N'Etait, is really lovely.

Without A Net

I've been having frustrating conversations with God lately. Here are a few examples:

Me: Please tell me what you want me to do.
God: I want you to do X.
Me: Really? I'm not sure about that idea.

Me: This is a tough decision-- do I take the tidy, straightforward, well-mapped option, or do I fly without a net?
God: Well, flying without a net is your decision. But does it look to you like I'm letting you take the tidy option?
Me:

Me: I'm really scared. I don't want to make a decision for the wrong reasons.
God: I am really, really big, and I'm in this with you.

Stay tuned, friends.

Inquiring Minds Are Rewarded for Their Patience

I am pleased to tell you that Wednesday was a very good day. The weather was beautiful, and I had about ten minutes to sit with God by the river before I went in to speak with the bishop. We met for about an hour, and traffic home was light enough that I was able to debrief with Mr. M for about an hour before heading off to see my spiritual director. She and I had a really wonderful session that was supportive and insightful and fantastic.

I felt very calm and centered all day. A chaplain once asked my mother if she would be more willing to listen to her gut feelings if she thought they might be the nudge of the Holy Spirit. With that in mind, I was able to listen to my gut all day, and felt an enormous amount of peace. I felt like I processed with integrity after the meeting, rather than processing with self-doubt. The three words that a wonderful friend shared with me when I told him about it were "Integrity, Liberation, and Regeneration."

God was with me all day, and I was able to be aware of it, and find joy in it. I'll write about what I think might come next later, but for now, all is well.

One Purpose of Prayer

For years and years I journaled my prayers. Almost always at the end of the day before bed, and often outside, during quiet reflective times.

Then I stopped. A spiritual director I had told me that wasn't a very good way to pray. I didn't have the confidence or clarity to dispute that. Around the same time, a priest I know shared some of his theology on prayers of petition: that he believed in a loving God, and since he couldn't reconcile the pain in the world with an omnipotent, loving God, then his loving God must be powerless to intercede. I followed his logic, and didn't dispute that, either.

And then I noticed how dry I was becoming. I noticed that I didn't have much hope, and that I'd stopped expecting miracles. I felt more reasonable, but I didn't necessarily feel wiser. I felt defeated.

There is such joy in expecting to be surprised. As I return to prayers of petition, I'm learning that one of the best purposes of prayer is the noticing; when I am attentive to the petition, I notice the response. My gratitude increases. My joy increases. The comfort of my loving God becomes incredible. And when the impossible becomes possible in my life, it also becomes possible in my relationships, and I can pass on some of that generousity.

God has been doing beautiful things in my life. Thanks be to God for the times I see it!

Spiritual Direction for Spiritual Guides Closing Retreat

Since I'm on a blogging spree, I thought I'd share pictures of the gorgeous Kenbrook, where my Spiritual Direction training takes place. We had our closing retreat last weekend.

Wanted:

I badly need to have a Prayer Partner again. I have one in my Spiritual Direction training, but we see each other once a month, which is not cutting it. Also, that seems to be more of a covenant-to-pray-for-you sort of thing that a pray-with-you sort of thing.

I've been thinking about this for a while, but it's really come to the fore since last week's Friday Five.

Having a regular prayer partner was part of the baby that got thrown out with the bathwater when I moved from being part of evangelical churches to being a Piskie. I became closest to people who are still beloved friends this way. I had a much stronger sense of that "peace that passeth understanding."

Mr. M is happy to pray with me, and that's good; we should almost certainly do more of that, but it's not quite what I need. I need another woman to sit down with, weekly or biweekly, share the stuff that's going on, and look together for God's direction and presence in our lives. Having done that, I want us to spend time together talking to God about what we've shared.

Does anyone understand why Piskies don't do this? Probably some do, but where I am, this sort of relationship (with God and with one another) seems to be discouraged. I think incorporating actual voodoo into our spiritual practice might be met with a warmer reception. I really believe that we, all people, need some sort of intimate spiritual support, accountability, and love. Where are we, as Mainline churches, teaching/showing/offering that? Is it just us Piskies struggling here?

(And, I'd like to point out, there is absolutely no reason in my mind that my Prayer Partner needs to be of the same denomination. But if I don't find her in church, where will I find her?)

Friday Five: Leaping Edition

Hello from your Fifth Friday Five team, will smama and Songbird~It's Leap Day!!

Whether you're one of the special few who have a birthday only once every four years, or simply confused by the extra day on the calendar, everyone is welcome to join in and play our Leap Year Friday Five.

Tell us about a time you:


1. Leapt before looked
I was much better at doing this when I was younger. (I'm not that old now-- how did I get so dry and stodgy so young?) The summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college, my mom moved back to CA from MD (where I'd graduated high school). My girlfriends and I had a wonderful last night together, and ended the evening up sitting and splashing IN a fountain in front of Barnes and Noble. It was very, very fun.

2. Leapt to a conclusion
I regularly leap to the conclusion that what people in positions of authority are telling me is true (even when it feels wrong). I'm working on this one.

3. Took a Leap of Faith
I think marriage qualifies. I felt very peaceful about the decision, but it's a scary thing to do, and it's certainly something that one can't control entirely on one's own.

4. Took a literal Leap
Well, I was a cheerleader in high school and college, does that count?

5. And finally, what might you be faced with leaping in the coming year?
I'm not sure. I have a feeling that this is going to be a Big Year for me. It's about time to start researching seminaries again, and I'm still in training for spiritual directors, and I think there may be some family changes coming. All in all, a lot of leaping. (Pray that I have soft landing spots!)

Bologna

Growth is exhausting, my friends. No wonder little kids sleep so much. Maybe instead of bragging about how little sleep we can get by on, we should consider how much is needed in order to grow. Just a thought.

If I sum up the stuff that's going on in my neck of the woods, there's definitely net growth. But I'm tuckered out by it, and there's so much more to do! It seems like every time I get a little bit of clarity, the road to wisdom stretches even further out.

And what does all of this have to do with processed lunch meat?

I'm glad you asked.

In the midst of all this growing and stretching and learning, I've been feeling a bit... well, incompetant. A little overwhelmed. I am learning both of these things at the same time: I know more than I think I do AND there's an awful lot to learn. This can be confusing.

But, here's the thing, my little peapods: everyone is full of bologna. Everyone has a lot to learn. Maybe this is part of why we have such puny little lifespans. It levels the playing field.

So chin up! There's a lot of room for improvement, but you're doing ok. God is with you. God knows that you don't always feel up to the task at hand (can we get an "amen" from Moses on this one? Also Jonah, Paul, Timothy...). God also knows that those polished, perfect people you're comparing yourself to are full of bologna.

Grace to you today,
Mrs. M

Missing in Action

Quicker action than usual, actually. Yesterday Mr. M and I ran our first 5K together, and I shaved about a minute/mi off my time. Yes, it's still very, very, very slow, but it's no longer very, very, very, very slow.

I have, simmering somewhere in my head:
2 memes (1 very belated for gannet, 1 recent for RevDrKate)
At least one post on Mary
At least one post on fairness.

Bear with me. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed these days-- church and spiritual directors training and work and (thank heavens, finally!) spending time with friends.

But all of it is very, very good.

Hugs and kisses,
Mrs. M

ps-- don't forget, more primaries tomorrow. Wear those lucky knickers for safety on the way to the polls, and a good turnout, regardless of political persuasion!

A Hard Question: Has anyone out there started the ordination process in one tradition and finished in another?

I feel like a traitor for even asking the question, and I'm positive that if discernment leads that way, it will include a stage of grieving. I don't quit when a relationship is hard, and I love to be part of growth and change. Ultimately, though, faithfulness to God is far more important than fidelity to one community of faith. I want to stay in this beautiful church that I love. I need to take God's call seriously, even when it isn't in the correct prepackaged box.

I met with my spiritual director on Wednesday, and then shuffled off to SD training yesterday, and over and over, I kept remembering the joy that comes with freedom of imagination. I kept contrasting it with this dreadful "discipline and obedience." There have been so many glorious times when God has popped up in unexpected places, completely surprising me with new plans. It seems like arrogance to believe that there is a simple, neatly proscribed timeline and job descriptions for all ministers of the church, regardless of their gifts.

This loss of imagination is making me feel old. I want to dream. I want to rejoice in the prophetic imagination that is so precious to me. I want to know if I can do that here. I want to be truly faithful.

God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be
changed,
Courage to change the things which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.
Living
one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as
Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would
have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be
reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever
in the next.
Amen.
by Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)