Horizon God of Infinite Possibilities,

You dawn in me, this day.

If I run off in cool superficialities

You are there

in the noontime

warming me to be compassionate.

If I fly off in empty optimism,

still, you are there

in the sunset

reminding me that for everything there is a season.

I give you thanks and I celebrate, Miracle-maker,

that you have so wonderfully made me.

You took the simple jug of my life,

filled with only water from the well,

and you changed it into the wine of celebration!

And if, for a while,

my life should become the Gethsemane cup,

You will stay with me, showing me how to accept and drink.

You are my gladness and my joy;

in you I am forever young.

Horizon God of Infinite Possibilities,

dawn in me, this day.

Photo by Amy W. — Prayer chosen and read by Bonnie L.

Along undefined paths through a field of trees, the vines kept speaking to me. Individual stalks rising bold, upright, through bushes or unprotected, doing what they’re meant to do. Not able to not grow. Leaning into the light. Up trunks. Comingling with whatever they can reach. Sometimes, tangle with. No one planted them. No one really welcomes them, thick-thorned, and unforgiving as they are. Yet they come back, year after year, as if summoned, at the earliest warming of the ground. Each spot they sprout from they claim. Their root, always ready to generate more life. Can I find their tenacity, their undaunted courage, to thrive in these days? What and who do I reach for to draw me further into the light?

Photos and reflection by Amy W.

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Photos by Nancy L.