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  • 2015 (2)
  • 2014 (28)
  • 2013 (32)
  • 2012 (34)
  • 2011 (35)
  • 2010 (35)
  • 2009 (13)

January 11, 2015 – D. Bienfang

Dear God thanks for listening again:
As You know I pretty much need help with the same things. But You have been polite about it. Thank You

There is one area which all of us eventually will face and need Your help.
Life does not go on forever and death is part of it as much as birth. The spring we enjoy is the flowing and growing of time but later as the days slow down, an ebb will occur. Some fight this. Sadly many of my colleagues have made it possible to prolong the agony as if any kind of life, no matter how cruel, is better than death. Death becomes as Yeats said: ‘man’s creation” when it really belongs to You. Some think, like the “Material Girl”, that the richer we make ourselves- the more immortal we become.
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January 4, 2015 – B. Wells

Spirit of many names, join us as we gather here in prayer

Its our first Sunday in a new year. All around the world all people are marking the beginning of a new cycle. Different cultures celebrate at different times. For us, the year is 2,015 and the year began a few days ago. In the Jewish calendar the year is 5,775, and the year began in September. In China we are in year 4,712, and the next year begins in about a month. There are many more examples, and these remind us that so many things separate us. Not just calendars, but language, traditions, customs, even the names we give you, the god before whom we pray.
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December 7, 2014 – B. O’Neil

To the spirit that is in us
and all around us, we pray.

I don’t know what the soul is but I think I know what it likes.

The soul likes quiet. In a world full of noise, silence can feel holy.
The soul likes sound. Music, a whisper, voices raised in celebration.

It likes to be surprised.
On a walk across a frozen field, a flock of birds appears, streaks across the sky and is gone just as suddenly. Is it my heart or the soul that soars also?
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November 30, 2014 – J. Mansfield

I am learning from watercolor classes. Choose a few colors that work with each other. Decide the brush strokes or wash you will need for each detail. Love the colors, but most important, keep it simple. Leave open spaces. Let the white of the paper shine through.

Let us be grateful for the simple white of our church space, and for the many details which come together to create our Sunday time here: the brilliant colors of the flowers, the hymns we sing together, the organ music and choir, the hand bells, the children’s time, the readings, the prayers and the sermon. These are the many brush strokes of the paintings we create here. We are finding this year that we are part of a community that is more than any one of us. We are all brush strokes in this painting.
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November 16, 2014 – A. Clark

Dear Lord,

There is a quiet buzz building, just behind some door, a gathering horde of holiday festivities. When their bonds are loosed we will be swept along, in a mix of terror and glee, until we find ourselves spent and a little disheveled sometime around the middle of January.

In the meantime, in the chill and quietude of mid-November, we stop and think a moment about what this all means. For many of us, the holidays are deeply about home- about returning home, about creating home, and about finding a home. The holiday rituals and traditions that we employ, quirky though they may be, connect us to our sense of home in the past and, we hope, offer some meaningful connection to the future.
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November 9, 2014 – K. Taschioglou

The pastoral prayer this morning is one of giving thanks, thanks for a gift that has come to me as I experience losses that come with aging. The gift is wonderfully new — an ongoing good feeling born of the ability to appreciate, see, and envelop myself in the unbounded beauty of the physical world.

The gift was revealed to me during a two-week vacation trip last June to the national parks of Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons in Wyoming. Rhoda and I toured the parks in a rented car, and as many of you know so well, the wide diversity of ever-changing views is spectacular.

They proceed one after another, each offering a new panorama of mountains and rolling flat plains, singing brooks and meandering rivers, varieties of shades of green and vivid color displays in thermal baths. But most remarkable was to be both enthralled and embraced, able to drink in the scenes slowly and deliberately, and to be joyful in so doing. It happened every day, and the ability to do it has stayed to this very day.
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November 2, 2014 – A. Clark

Oh Lord,

It is gray outside, and wet, and a little bleak. The leaves have lost their luster, the late afternoons have lost their light, and the vitality of our natural world seems to be just slipping away. Things are dying, and the glorious, boastful promise of the spring and summer has now become a bittersweet elegy for what was and what was not.

We are reminded, in this season, of the way that things come to an end – the way they burst open, and flourish, and sustain, and then fail and die. We are reminded today, on All Souls Day, of the persons we have lost. Of those we held most dear to us, of those who went too soon, and of those who left an empty place behind.
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October 26, 2014 – A. Patterson

Dear God,

Let us pray this crisp October morning for something that most every person in this sanctuary has in common–something that makes us different from the rest of the world– something that I’m sure you all appreciate– but something that your children might not even realize– I didn’t, until recently. Let us give thanks for simply being part of this really small town.

On my first day of ninth grade last year at Noble and Greenough School in Dedham, I was repeatedly asked, “Where are you from?” When I’d say I was from Lincoln, I would usually get perplexed looks and a response along the lines of “Where the heck is that?” And when they’d ask which school I attended in Lincoln, I’d always have to explain, “Well, Lincoln only has one school.”
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October 19, 2014 – I. Nebel

God, here we are again this morning.
We come to you because we know
You are waiting. We are longing:
For our hearts to become so wise
Forgiveness becomes irrelevant.
For our bodies to become so strong
That we conquer all our illnesses.
For our dreams to become so real
That every day we can remember
We are already where we need to be.
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