Inspired by Luke 1:26-28 & Isa. 43:1-7

You are a blessing.

If you hear nothing else,

if the wind howls,

if your brain runs amok,

if rebuttals and denials line up like little toy soldiers,

then hear this—

you are a blessing.

I knew it the first moment I met you / heard your name / learned there are 7 billion of us

on this planet.

I knew it in my bones,

the way my feet know the way home.

You are a blessing.

For our creating God

breathed life into your being.

And there is simply no way that,

along with that life,

some of God’s goodness

didn’t slip right in.

So tell the rebuttals to rest.

Tell the toy soldiers to find another hill,

because this one is reserved for joy and celebration.

You are a blessing.

Breathe it in.

Inspired by Ruth 1 & Ecc. 4:9-12

Yesterday I visited an old man in the hospital.

I was not the only one. We talked on the elevator ride down—

Has he gained any weight? Will he stay in that room?

Does he like the food? Has he called?

All the man wanted to know was, When will you be back?

We ask that question in a thousand different ways

every single day,

our hearts leaning over themselves,

bending to get closer to love.

We say, Text me when you’re home.

Call me when you’re free.

One more kiss!

I love you all the time.

When will you be back?

What we really mean is—

I can’t go through life alone.

Please don’t let me go through life alone.

Inspired by Luke 3:7-16 & Isa. 58:9b-12

Maybe none of it matters.

Maybe you can’t make a difference.

Or maybe that watermelon seed you spit out over the summer will grow into a green orb, full of

sticky sweet fruit. Maybe the rain will nourish it. Maybe your mother’s hands will pull it from the

vine, slice it into wedges, and place it on the dining room table. Maybe the neighbors will come over

and chomp into that soft pink fruit, juicy water running down their chins. Maybe you will laugh at

the shared experience, at this garden-grown communion, and maybe the stars will shine brighter

that night.

People say the problems of the world are too big to make a difference,

but surely those people have forgotten the fruit that grows from one little seed.

Inspired by Matt. 1:18-25 & Luke 1:46-55

What’s to love?

she asked.

I understood the question.

I’ve seen the riot gear,

the tear gas,

the names of children

wiped from this

war-stained world.

I’ve seen the spray paint Swastikas

and the Proud Boys with their flags.

I’ve heard grandmothers at church

pray in urgent, desperate whispers.

And I've watched young mothers cry,

because teachers carry guns.

I’ve felt the tremor of an earthquake.

I’ve felt the heat of climate change.

I’ve seen the temple curtain tear in two.

But despite it all,

the bell that wouldn’t stop tolling,

the words that won’t stop clanging through my heart,

are, so much.

There is so much left to love.

So much left to hope for.