A centering practice for meetings, gatherings or worship in person or online.

While it may be urgent to work toward creating justice, I can’t do that unless I have a sense of calm.

Ask yourself, in your heart: What or who are you grateful for?

I take care of myself first, because I am deserving of exquisite care. I take care of myself to maintain the capacity to help others. I move and stretch my body every day. I spend time in nature, attuning my senses to the earth's wisdom. I ration my daily exposure to the news....

Spirit of love and life, these are trying times, and sometimes we are at wits' end trying to figure out what to do. We have all this extra time, and we are busier than we have ever been....

Sit and rest for a minute. Take several deep breaths in and out again, calling your attention to this space. Attention. Pay attention. Pay attention to where you are right now. I mean where you are, Where you are, And where you are....

Can we just sit here for a minute, Holy One? Some of us are carrying pretty heavy stuff. . . . . . And we could all use a moment of peace. To count our breath. To quiet the noise. To let our spirits be still. . . . . . Perhaps as we sit, we will count our blessings. Name them, one by one. . . . . .

I invite you now to join me in the spirit of meditation and imagination. Find a comfortable position in your seat and close your eyes. Take a deep breath and try to find the restorative power of air and water in the breath. We must breathe to live, but our bodies also need water to survive. Our...

Spirit of Life, love which holds us, We gather in reverence and thanks for You. We are grateful for the gift of another breath, and for each moment of connection, beauty, and truth. Cry with us in our pain for our world. Remind us that we are loved, just as we are. Remind us that we are connected...

On my worst days, it is gravity I am most grateful for: the way the earth pulls at me from her core, yearns for me, keeps me pressed tightly against her surface. When my own core is hollowed out, when I have no more mass than a leaf dead on the branch, still this is enough for the earth to find me.

I give thanks for all it takes to be a healing presence, and also how simple it is. I confess that I want to be seen as (especially) good (especially) right (especially) useful. I confess that I'm still learning an artful skill....

Gracious God, the week was filled with moments when words escaped me. They would not come. Forgive me, Holy One —I know it is the preacher’s job, but there were moments when I just did not know how to pray. First, at the hospital, labor and delivery, to see the new parents. The overnight bag sat...

In this time of long nights and short days, let us seek the light within … by contemplating, through our mind’s eye, the image of a candle flame. Notice how the soft, quiet, and gentle flame tamely rises from the wick. Yet, just by touching a dry twig, it has the power to become a raging bonfire...

Dearly beloved, the story is told that a man named Jesus dined nearly two thousand years ago among his disciples on the eve of his arrest and crucifixion. Some say that Jesus took bread, spoke of it as his body, broke it into pieces and passed it among them to eat....

Gracious God, Morning rises toward high noon just as our spirits gaze toward your radiant refuge. We remember the days of trial, not so long ago, among the shadows and valleys of wilderness wandering and wondering if we were forever forsaken, outcast, left behind. And just then, as the sun breaks...

Let every moment be a prayer. With every sip of trea, let your lips move in thanksgiving. Be fully present to every stroke of the hairbrush, every cup of milk you pour for the children....

“We want to give you an update on our progress,” the captain said over the PA. A silent groan went through the passengers: the word “update” meant the problem wasn’t fixed. I was on a plane sitting on the tarmac trying to get to the East coast where I was officiating at my nephew’s...

Early in the morning, before the children are awake and while the grass is still dewy, I like to walk in my garden. It’s “my” garden only because it shares the same small plot of land my family and I inhabit. The garden does not really belong to me; I belong to it—at least for the short time...

What do you do with the secret verses of your heart? With your need for redemption, the story without words? With paradoxical truths, too private and nuanced to share, that cannot be printed or spoken aloud? You weave their energy into a poem, carefully, carefully, over and under and through,...

May I move gently through this cloudy, murky, gray day. May I remember that this is just one day, and that showing up is at least half of what is asked of me. May I set aside my underlying anxiety that I will not get to everything and put my trust and faith onto the riverbank of human community —...