Beneath the snow, life is bursting, preparing for the next season.

Growing connects me to ancestors who had their hands in the dirt because it was keeping them alive.

We are living today with time to do good for ourselves and for each other.

Arm's length: What was once a defensive or suspicious expression has now become a gesture of care, an indication of love and protection.

Tip if you are video recording this story: you can have a clip of an adult stretching out their arm in one direction, then another clip of a different adult stretching out their arm in the other direction, so that when you edit it, it looks like they are stretching towards each other. It would be...

Part of being in community is noticing what's needed. Part of being in community is doing what is necessary but unclaimed.

What once seemed certain is now unpredictable, even dangerous.

I hope that this Great Silence, which has come alongside the suffering, holds the beginnings of our healing.

The tree stood in the middle of the village. Its trunk was so large that it took six people holding hands to reach around it. The roots were strong and wide, and its branches spread out over the village square, offering shelter from the rain, or shade from the summer sun....

A seed knows how to wait. Most seeds wait for several years before starting to grow; a cherry seed can wait for a hundred years with no problem. What exactly each seed is waiting for is known only to that seed. Some unique trigger-combination of temperature-moisture-light and many other things is...

This was written as a blessing for pouring out the Water Communion waters onto a memorial garden. Like water that swells rivers and fills the ocean, the memories of those we have loved rush through us. Sometimes they are quiet, almost as if we have forgotten—and then suddenly, they flood our...

It was my inadvertent letting go that made this wild, interdependent beauty possible. And at that very moment, I knew I didn’t need that sort of control anymore.

Recognizing the beauty around us and within us, in voice and spirit, we gather to light our chalice. May we savor the beauty of our abundance and diversity, always cherishing one another and our earth. May we remember to inhale the lushness in life knowing that we are a people of beauty.

If justice is to be realized, our voices must speak loudly—even boisterously—of love.

I call the tall bush on my back patio “Burning Bush” because in autumn its leaves are a fiery red. All winter long I overlooked three uninhabited nests inside of it. For months and months I could have perceived—but didn’t—what was in plain sight. ...

People move places for jobs, relations, opportunities, escape, hindering our ability to put down new roots. And yet, we carry a constancy: the still, quiet voice within.

Let us give thanks for a bouquet of people. We give thanks for children. Like tulips and iris, they multiply around us, making the world ever more filled with color, beauty, and new life. May we bless them as they replant themselves ever further from us, knowing that they need their own space to...

However imperfectly I may be living this life of mine, there’s no one better at it, and there’s no one else who can do it for me.

It would be a quieter holiday, no fireworks or loud parades, no speeches, no salutes to any flag, a day of staying home instead of crowding away, a day we celebrate nothing gained in war but what we’re given — how the sun’s warmth is democratic, touching everyone, and the rain is democratic...

Prelude Chalice Lighting by Laura Horton Ludwig [For this service, the chalice was a large pillar candle in a clear glass bowl of water.] Call to Worship Welcome to this Earth Day worship service! Like so many days, this day holds wonder and sorrow....