Sunday, December 24, 2006
When love is felt or fear is known,
When holidays and holy days and such times come,
When anniversaries arrive by calendar or consciousness,
When seasons come, as seasons do, old and known, but somehow new,
When lives are born or people die,
When something sacred's sensed in soil or sky,
Mark the time.
Respond with thought or prayer or smile or grief.
Let nothing living, life or leaf, slip between the fingers of the mind,
For all of these are holy things we will not, cannot, find again.
Rev. Max Coots
We gather in reverence before the wonder of life -
The wonder of this moment
The wonder of being together, so close yet so apart -
Each hidden in our own secret chamber,
Each listening, each trying to speak -
Yet none fully understanding, none fully understood.
We gather in reverence before all intangible things -
That eyes se not, nor ears can detect -
That hands can never touch,
That space cannot hold,
And time cannot measure.
Sophia Lyon Fahs
From Singing the Living Tradition, #439
When holidays and holy days and such times come,
When anniversaries arrive by calendar or consciousness,
When seasons come, as seasons do, old and known, but somehow new,
When lives are born or people die,
When something sacred's sensed in soil or sky,
Mark the time.
Respond with thought or prayer or smile or grief.
Let nothing living, life or leaf, slip between the fingers of the mind,
For all of these are holy things we will not, cannot, find again.
Rev. Max Coots
We gather in reverence before the wonder of life -
The wonder of this moment
The wonder of being together, so close yet so apart -
Each hidden in our own secret chamber,
Each listening, each trying to speak -
Yet none fully understanding, none fully understood.
We gather in reverence before all intangible things -
That eyes se not, nor ears can detect -
That hands can never touch,
That space cannot hold,
And time cannot measure.
Sophia Lyon Fahs
From Singing the Living Tradition, #439
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