Wandering and Wondering

Ode to the one I never knew:

A minister’s memory

By Rev. Dawn M. Adams

I stand.

I speak.

I reminisce,

but I never had a coffee

or beer

or donut with you.

We never sat on the porch and talked.

We never took a walk,

or called each other on overwhelming days.

And yet,

I remember.

I share.

I weave together your life.

I’ve never seen your face (except in a picture).

I’ve never held your hand.

I’ve never seen the mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

I have, though, laughed your jokes retold,

cried at your loss,

wondered about you more than people realize.

Before your family came into my office,

I never even knew you existed.

I didn’t know your name until your family gave it to me so that I could

write the liturgy of farewell and print the bulletins;

and yet you fill my heart.

You were dead before I even met you;

yet, you are alive now in my memory and written on my heart.

It is a sacred act – to re-member:

to put back together somethings that’s been torn apart,

to make space for the mourning and the pain,

and also to allow for joy and love to reemerge.

I never heard your voice,

but I did get the blessing of hearing from many who loved you.

I heard about how you met your spouse,

or why you never chose to marry –

about that car you lovingly restored,

about your famous stuffed shells.

I heard about your hopes and dreams,

about your travels,

and your accomplishments;

sometimes about the things you wish you had done,

but didn’t;

or about the challenges you faced.

Sometimes, I’ve heard about your own losses,

and even sometimes your own misdeeds.

I’ve watched pain, bewilderment, shock, anger, disbelief, satisfaction, horror, gratitude flicker.

I have witnessed the heartache left by your absence.

I’ve heard the testimony of your loved ones about who you were to them.

I’ve heard a lot about you;

and spoke about you before a gathered congregation.

You have died.

You no longer walk this earth.

I never knew you in this life;

and yet, I find myself thinking about you.

Your memory is a blessing to me.

To bury someone is a sacred act;

To prepare to bury someone and hear the stories of a person’s life is a privilege.

It is a holy calling to walk with loved ones to the graveside.

It is an honor to get to know those we did not know in life.

I didn’t know you

and yet I did.

Blessings to you and to all who knew you.

Liturgy for ONA Sunday

Opening Centering Chant –

I am precious in God’s sight.

You are precious in God’s sight.

All are precious in God’s sight.

Call to Worship

Pastor: Within each of us lies a holy seed.

People: Let us tend it. Let us nurture it.

Pastor: Let us not fear it as it presses its way to the surface.

People: God wants each of us to grow and thrive.

Pastor: The world needs each of us to grow and thrive.

People: Let us be as God designed.

Invocation

Holy One, pour your spirit upon us. Shine within us. Weed out that which chokes life and feed what brings it. Let us grow toward you; ever seeking, ever reaching to be all that you have created us to be. May our time today encourage us to continue to grow. AMEN

Prayer of Transformation

Liberation God,

Help me to peel off the facades that I have built up.

Take off the masks that I have created to protect myself and be what others thought I could or should be.

Remind me of my divine origin and inspire us each to nurture the divine flame within and encourage us to feed that flame in others.

Free us from expectations and revisions that society places on us and work with us to shed the ideas of shouldn’t, can’t, or that is not for you. Clear out our ears so that we might hear you whispering, “Beloved, you got this. Keep going.” Let us listen closely to our heart and with your support, bravely and honestly show who you made us to be. AMEN

Assurance of Pardon

God is our originator, our creator,

In us is the divine fingerprint.

Let us always seek to reveal that wonder within being fully who God created us to be.

Prayer of Illumination

Holy Spirit flow into our heart.

Open our ears and let us hear this spoken word.

May each phrase set upon us and enlighten our understanding of God’s kin-dom and dream. AMEN

Invitation to share

As one body, we do care for one another. This is what God asks of us.

Thus, like the earliest Christians, we gather our gifts together to help all of humanity and the ways of God.

Let us respond to the wonders of God and all of God’s gifts by opening our hands and our hearts.

Prayer of Dedication

God, Receive these gifts as a symbol of our deeper commitment to work together for the coming of your kin-dom of heaven on earth. AMEN

A Blessing for Your Journey

For those times when goodbyes are necessary, it is important to mark the occasion so that the community can both celebrate and grieve.

You are each a blessing.
We have been richer for your presence.
We are thankful for the time you have shared in this gathered body.
A part of us weeps at your absence,
but a greater part of us celebrates with you as you take this next step in life.

As we send you off, we offer you this blessing:

Go with our love in your hearts.
Go knowing you have made an impact here.
Go knowing you will always be a part of us.
Go with our blessings—

May God bless you and keep you as you reestablish your roots.
May you build community and find a new church home.
May you create new memories and be filled with joy
as you grow into your new life.
And as you are blessed, may you share that blessing
with all whom you meet.

We send you with love.
We send you with hope.
We send you with our support, if ever you need it.
May God watch over you,
and may this be a wonderful new adventure.

Amen.

You go with our blessing—and our love goes with you.

Using Words and Style as a Writing Prompt

This week in mid-week meditation, I offered two prompts based on the same poems. I randomly picked poems and then asked AI to remove punctuation and capitalization and randomize the words. The first prompt invited the writers to write using the words before them as a base.

For Example, here were my words:

films intentionally loving of the their feet while art culture borders hesitation possibilities fire paint artists loud or wall see and creative canvas kind-based canvas directed sprinting mumblings conscience limitations and all us deliberately windstorms blast motivation into with quality do art their struggle quiet questions without run does to and with move people or intentionally paint and has loving and and life-centered does toward can’t doubts with cameras name has create misrepresentations has blasts gates culture ideas advance and see a world centered civilization and and and the talk and struggle move escape and searching not and good or feet questionably questionably phones gates has ideas doubts the loving own toward move fire justice of people their advance loving art themselves has of not people computers its civilization paint forward clear canvas intentions blasts daily and pen paper question run run or walls feet as mumblings based with community run paint souls good rulers with and name quietly paint searching artists and loving has definitions and has gatekeepers and daily windstorms loving loving canvas with toward and and paint the

I gave us 15 minutes, this is what I wrote:

Untitled

To intentionally paint the world with love creates life.

There are no limitations

Civilization tries to rule

setting borders

and erecting walls.

It misrepresents truth

and sews doubts,

leaving society lost and lonely.

Daily windstorms tattering the art

that has so lovingly been created.

But the art of love

offers possibilities beyond the gates culture has created.

Love offers justice

it leans in with questions

and listens.

It paints quietly, slowly, subtly,

and brashly, without hesitation using bold strokes.

There are no gate keepers here

simply lovers loving:

a world searching for good,

souls seeking and searching

for new canvases on which to

paint beauty and possibility.

Then, I offered them the opportunity to read the actual poem. Mine was Art IV: Remembering Gwendolyn Brooks by Haki R. Madhubuti.

We then took an additional 10 minutes to write a poem based on the style they noticed in the poem. This is what I created:

Remembering Ezekiel Kallberg

children are fed what we feed them

they cannot forge on their own.

they are reliant on what we bring – good or bad.

children not only fill themselves

with the nutrients we provide;

But also the love, the wonder,

the hope, the resilience we fill them with

children absorb our ways

without us ever needing to

speak and perhaps even

before their ears can hear

outside the womb.

what shall we offer this

hungry one – ancient

dusty artifacts, a diet of anger

and war, a meal made

of mush,

or shall we choose to gather

them in our lap and blanket

them in love,

shall we surround them with

support and welcome them

into wonder.

shall we put before them a

feast which tantalizes them

and invites them to taste,

touch, sample

and decide for themselves

their favorites.

and perhaps even one day

teach them to cook.

Neither of these are perfect poems, but the process is like putting compost around your garden. The nutrients seep in and before you know fruit is produced.

I encourage you to give it a try and see what your process might seed.

Midrash Writing to understand deeper

The past two sessions of our Mid-Week Meditation, the literary edition, we have explored the concept of midrash (the idea of filling in the missing aspects of a biblical text). Last week, in worship, we read the story of the Paul and Silas getting put in prison which begins with their excising a demon from a slave girl who follows them calling out, “These men are servants of the Most High God, who are telling you the way to be saved”. Sadly, the text (Acts 16:16-40) says that Silas rids her of the demon not to cure her or help her, but in his annoyance. The story then pivots to the trial of Paul and Silas who are sent to prison for this crime and this poor slave girl is left without her “gift” and still in slavery. In the sermon, I asked people to think more about this gift, who she was, how she was marginalized on multiple fronts, and even dared to wonder if what Paul and Silas did was helpful or harmful to this girls future.

In our meditation group, I asked them to think even more about this girl and write her story. Because so little is written about her, the leeway of what might be written is pretty wide.

This week I offered them pictures of Biblical stories like Rahab’s red cord, Moses being put in the basket and sent down the Nile, the rubble of the walls of Jericho, the woman at the well with Jesus, etc. Instead of writing from the perspective of the human characters in the story, I invited them to write from the perspective of an inanimate object. Mine for example was told from the perspective of a tambourine that the daughter of Jephthah (Judges 11:30-40).

Both of these exercises, while not scripturally sound, invited participants to interact with the scriptural texts in way they had not before. It opened up questions and curiosities; and invited us into a much deeper conversation.

I invite you to try either of these writing exercises and share them with us below.

Two for the day

Presence

I stuck my hands in the dirt –

my fingernails give evidence to my folly.

I bent down,

dug holes,

and implanted hope into the ground

declaring another year will come.

I breathed the air deeply. It cleansed my airway, my lungs, and my mind.

Now it is as if cotton balls have been pulled from my ears

and scales from my I eyes.

The world brightens around me, and I am gifted with the chatter of God’s creation.

I hear the vibrating hum of the wings of this spring’s first hummingbird,

The water ripples of two geese gliding by,

The call of the loon across the lake,

The twitter,

twitter,

twitter

of the unseen.

I ask myself, “Is it this simple?”

“Can it be this simple?”

“Is it this simple?”

Rest in my garden, little one, and you will be renewed.

A morning picture on the lake that my husband took.

The Patient Fisherman

The fishermen have come to the lake.

They set their lines oh so patiently

and then seem only to wait.

Are they waiting for fish?

Or are they waiting for You to come by an holler,

“Follow me!”

They do not seem anxious in their waiting,

but instead extraordinarily patient:

Not a muscle twitches.

They keep just a soft finger on the line

ready . . .

Both of these poems were written by me and all rights are reserved. Permission is given to use in a religious or educational setting with attribution. Both pictures are taken in Wolfeboro, NH. The loons by me and the fog on the lake by George Adams. All rights reserved.

Liturgies continue

Call to Worship (Based on Psalm 118 )

Pastor: Give thanks to the Lord, for God is good.

People: God’s steadfast love endures forever!

Pastor: Be in awe of the wonders of God.

People: God’s steadfast love endures forever!

Pastor: Take refuge in God, rather than worldly princes.

People: God’s steadfast love endures forever!

Pastor: The Lord is our strength and our might. God is our salvation.

People: God’s steadfast love endures forever!

Invocation

Loving and gracious God, you are more than we can imagine. Help us to see your wondrous and diverse ways. Open us to the many ways that you make yourself known. Teach us to be generous and hospitable. In you and through you we seek to find our sacred center so that we can better walk in the footprints that your son first set. Give us hearts of compassion and spirits of courage as we work to bring to fruition your vision of heaven on earth. AMEN

Pastoral Prayer

Holy and Gracious God,

Your compassion is extravagant.

When your son came to show us what your love looked like in action,

We saw him care for all no matter their position or circumstances.

We watched him let interruptions become purposeful interactions.

We noticed how he took time to learn people’s names

And gather close to him those others had pushed away or ignored.

We remember his words even to the thief crucified beside him,

“Today you will be with me in paradise.”

To him no difference was too vast, no border too impenetrable, no person was unworthy.

Let us today pray for the vision you cast through your son.

Let us pray for people who are without homes and are left sleeping on the streets.

Let us pray for the people who will go without their HIV protocols because of bureaucratic savings.

Let us pray for people we pass everyday that don’t know where or how they will pay the rent or get food to feed their families.

Let us pray for the growing lines at the food pantry.

Let us pray for those who walk thousands of miles to seek hope

And for those in Gaza being squeezed harder and harder into smaller and smaller spaces.

Let us pray for those who are detained and incarcerated without proper due process.

Let us pray for the battered areas in our world that fade from our news cycles.

Let us pray for those imprisoned,

Those in recovery,

Those seeking help for physical and emotional suffering.

Let us open our hearts and offer to God all of those who we know to need God’s balm and care today:

God in your compassion gather your chicks under your breast and give them a safe place to rest. Infuse your love in the form of justice into the wider world encouraging us all to step in and heal the hurting as we can, where we can, when we can.

We pray this in the name of your son, and our brother, who taught us so well and who shared with us this prayer which we say together now:

Followed by the Lord’s prayer

Blessing for a Baptismal Font

The church I am serving has only a small silver bowl as their baptismal font, which regularly gets locked up following a baptism not to be seen again until the next baptism. For me, baptismal fonts are meant to be in view at all times. They are meant not just to baptize people, but also to constantly remind us of that baptism.

I love the story that I was told in seminary of the reformer Martin Luther often walking around saying, “I am baptized. I am baptized. I am baptized.” as a way to find his grounding and remembering his courage which was not just in him but beyond him.

One of my mentors, Rev. Wendy Miller-Olapade, shared with me that each time she washes her hands, she is reminded of her baptism. She takes these simple and mundane times as sacred, and, long ago, she encouraged me to do the same.

Baptism is not an act for a single day, but an invitation into and an outward act symbolizing the beginning of living a faith filled life. Therefore, for this congregation, I have been on the hunt for baptismal font.

I finally found one that another congregation was re-homing as their congregation was dissolving. They sought new life for as much of their liturgical tools and furniture as possible. I had to arrange or transportation, but they were happy to find it a new home where it would be loved and used.

This week, we will bless it and welcome it into use in our congregation. Next Sunday, it will get to be used to welcome its first little one in our congregation into the life of Christ.

The challenge that I found was liturgy. I wanted to offer the font some official blessing into service, but I could not find much. So I offer you here what I created and think will work well in our context. I wanted the time of blessing to be significant, but not too long. I wanted to honor its past spiritual home just as we do with new members, and I wanted to include the kids in the blessing so it will be done during Chancel steps and they will join me in dotting it with some sacred oil.

Blessing of a Baptismal Font

Pastor: As we accept this baptismal font into our church as a tool to be used for one of our sacraments, let us take a moment to bless it:

For what is was,

For what it will be . . .

People: We welcome this font in our household of faith.

Pastor: For what it symbolizes,

For the hopes it contains,

People: We welcome this font into our household of faith.

Pastor: Holy God,

Pour down your Spirit upon this font.

May it hold your blessed waters.

May it feed your faithful people.

May it bless us with happy memories

and hold us fast to your hopes.

May it signify a continuation of the family of faith which extends far outside these walls in both space and time.

Each time we see it, may we feel the inner tug of all that has been promised in these waters, whether they were poured here or elsewhere or even if only in someone’s heart.

We honor the journey of this font as it found its way to us and give thanks for our sister church in South Acton, MA in the many ways she sought to lay seeds in the ground even as her own congregation was scattered with the wind and her singular congregation is no more.

We give thanks for their generous hearts that they gifted this font to our congregation that it might continue to serve You.

May this font bring many smiles and joyful moments to this church.

May it signify the tie that binds when in times of trouble.

We pray all of this in your name, O God. AMEN

Blessing with oil – We bless you and set you into service in the name of our creator, son, and holy spirit. AMEN

CALL TO WORSHIP (based on Psalm 104)

Pastor: Bless the Lord, O my soul.

People: The Lord is great, clothed with honor and majesty and wrapped in light as with a garment.

Pastor: The Lord has stretched the heavens like a tent across all the earth.

People: God has set the earth on its foundations.

Pastor: and created all that is within, and upon, and around this earth.

People: Every bird and every tree, every blade of grass, every mountain, every rock, every spring bursting forth with water, God has made all things.

Pastor: God made the moon and the sun. God set the seasons into motion.

People: God made the darkness and light.

Pastor: God made humanity

People: and blew air into our very lungs.

Pastor: God is the creator and the redeemer of all.

People: God is our beginning and our end.

ALL: Bless the Lord, O our souls.

A Spring Squall in New England

By Dawn M. Adams

The wind dances through the falling snow, which twinkles and shimmers

as it lay itself upon the ground –

each flake bent over like a ballerina folded and waiting for the next note to spring to life.

The bluster rattles the windows and threatens to draw us back into winter,

but the crocus and the Lenten rose stand defiantly against the onslaught.

Tomorrow the sun will melt away the snow

and the winds will subside.

Locals will go out without a coat and claim,

“Spring is here!”

written during a spring squall April 2025