All Will Be Well

All Will Be Well

I just wrote this song over the past couple of days. I’m pretty sure I stole the chords and the melody from another song in the podcast. Oops. I was looking for some hope in these days and a friend mentioned Julian of Norwich, so of course I went back to her glorious visions and remembered “all will be well, all will be well, all will be well.” Now she survived the plague, so she saw some stuff. This wasn’t a light statement for her. Somehow she held all the trouble and the pain alongside joy and hope. She moved through the suffering to the heart of God. She wasn’t avoiding the reality of her days — I feel like she dove down into it with abandon and there she found freedom and connection. She found a love that held all these these things together. So I just started singing those words, all will be well, over and over again and it helped it start to sink down in my soul. Eventually this song happened. Here’s all will be well. Here's a blessing to take with you: As you go, may the uncertainty of these days not weigh you down or leave you in despair. May the seedling possibilities before you not entangle you  or leave you in fear of choosing this way or that, but may you find a lightness as you release the outcomes and the final form of the future and embrace the holy Now. May grace rise up as you see again an economy of love, not fettered to this dust, that shares each moment’s grace with abandon. ---------------------------------------- Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy [https://acast.com/privacy] for more information.

Back Home to the Light

Here’s a song I wrote to say thanks to my congregation on my ordination.  I wrote it last week—the lyrics basically came out start to finish while I was walking one morning.  That hasn’t happened for a while.  I made a few edits, and it took a while to find the melody, but it was a pretty quick process. Sunday reminded me what matters most is simply presence.  Grace shows up when we're chatting in the hallway or having coffee or telling stories. And somehow my digressions and my faltering words and my awkward moments fell into grace.  Somehow they were translated by love. Here’s a blessing to take with you: As you go, may you take the hand of your Divine Mother who guides you in gentleness and peace. May you trust in her wisdom. May you feel her joy at your presence. And may the armor of your heart fall away as you are fully-known— that you might live openhearted, part of this great company of grace. Go in peace. ---------------------------------------- Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy [https://acast.com/privacy] for more information.

Up in Smoke

This song has been in my head a lot recently.  I wrote it more than a decade ago.  I remember sitting on the back porch in our first house, looking up at the rich blue of late evening while it got too dark to see.  It was a darkness that wasn’t dark. It was like a sea of blue coating everything around—dying the whole world some translucent indigo. I suppose our vision is always colored in some way.  Perhaps seeing the blueness of our endings is a good way to see.  Here’s a blessing to take with you this week: May you find that your brokenness is no shame, your weakness is no burden, your uncertainty is not a lack, and your heartache is not unnoticed, for you are beloved. May you know that love that does not overlook, but looks deeply, that does not seek perfection except to perfectly love, and that welcomes you into this glorious mystery. ---------------------------------------- Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy [https://acast.com/privacy] for more information.

Then We All Will Be Free

Whatever you believe about it, I think it’s pretty obvious that we need each other.  We’re made for community.  We’re made for connection.  I think it’s in those connections where we’ll find healing and grace and new life.  So may you have a  happy pride however you celebrate, and may you know that you belong. Here’s a blessing to take with you this week: As you go May you find shade from the sun and shelter from the passing storm. May you find cool water in the dry places and warm fires in the night. And may you find your burden a little lighter, eased by your traveling companions as the divine Spirit gathers us to share each others' loads. Go in peace. ---------------------------------------- Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy [https://acast.com/privacy] for more information.

The Answer is Love

I wrote this song back in 2021 when we were still in the throes of the pandemic.  As is the case with a lot of the songs I’ve written in the past several years, I wrote it for a service at church.  The theme that day was pretty simple — the love of God.  Simple, yes, but there’s an eternity in that simple phrase.  The love of God, or use whatever term you like — the ground of our being, what connects us, the heartbeat that unites us.  It’s an ever unfolding reality where we are invited to join in.  Somewhere in that love we are made whole and we are undone.  We are unraveled and completed.  We are cherished and we learn to cherish.  There we find that we are lost and found, alone and cosmically united with Life. Here’s a blessing to take with you this week: As we go May we go together, calling each other by our true names— our eyes amazed at each one we see, shining like the sun. Trusting in the promise that love is the ground that we walk upon, that love is the air that we breathe, that love is our true sustenance and energy for each day, and that love is always reaching out, gathering in, and weaving us together— a wild and rich menagerie of grace. ---------------------------------------- Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy [https://acast.com/privacy] for more information.