It’s not easy to trace the tears,
the gaping holes where mothering
went wrong.
I can point to the withering look
that day at the dinner table
when I took my father’s attention.
Or maybe the stoney face
accusing me of losing something precious,
my protests unheard.
Or the subtle manipulations;
the distaste for what I wore,
the way I looked, laughed, talked.
I saw you coming to the front door,
The transgender man beaten,
and the woman harassed on the bus.
The disabled student not accommodated,
and the bomb threat at the Jewish child-care centre.
Racial profiling at the border
and another refugee told to go home.
A million tiny teeth ripping at the webs that connect us,
fissures fracturing the social fabric.
Reading the news my heart feels tattered,
and all that’s good seems lost
and left behind.
Can we defend, say, “Not here!” to hatred,
hold firm to every last strand of civility?
We all have one.
She goes by different names:
mom, mama, mummy,
my mother, my birth mother,
the woman who bore me.
We may know her intimately,
or she may be just a name.
But it was she who carried us,
nurtured us with her body,
gave birth to us
and launched us into this wide world….
Psalm 34:8 and
We come to church hungry, Lord!
We are hungry for comfort,
hungry for love,
hungry for a new way of living,
hungry for your word.
Thank you for giving us this place
and this time to worship,
and we are eager to taste your goodness
in community, with our friends and neighbours.
Bless us as we feast on the Bread of Life today.
In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.
The night God took a deep breath
for all that must be saved,
even the stars outshone themselves
and hillsides gloried with angelic music,
the good, good, good news bouncing down
like boulders, shaking the foundations royally,
announcing the advent of a ruler born
for all who must be saved.
It was the bloody same way
we all arrive on the scene
through the mother of all labour and sweat,
the pain stretching out like tidal waves
for all that must be made flesh.
Love is now newborn, if not exactly
God of every blessing, for your protection
and all the good of this past year,
accept our heartfelt and humble thanks.
For every closed mind
that has creaked open just a crack;
For every call to arms
that was not heeded;
For every homemade bomb
that was not left in the shopping mall;
For every generous gift
that made the difference between life and death;
For every time past mistakes
have given us pause;
For every estranged family member
Thank you for human ingenuity, God,
for our ability to think and reason
and figure things out.
Thank you for people who toil away
year after year in laboratories,
hypothesizing and testing,
and re-hypothesizing and re-testing.
The result is a world largely free from small-pox,
free from epidemics of polio,
free from the scourge of mumps, measles, tetanus,
and scores more diseases.
Thank you for countries rich enough
to devote money to universal health-care,
and for the doctors and nurses
who give and track vaccines.
In a world where some of our worst enemies
ven at mid-day today the winter solstice sun
crouched low over the southern horizon.
Low noon, and the day is short.
Darkness sits with us early and late,
lingering longer the further north we go.
Bundled against the cold,
the lack of light weighs on us,
and we are plagued with dark worries
in these troubled times.
And yet, you order this big old earth.
Sailing through space it tips only so far,
but no further from the sun.
Thank you for solar power and centripetal forces
esus, you grew up in a family
that did not always understand,
who questioned you and no doubt squabbled;
hear our prayer for family gatherings this year.
Thank you for families that get along,
showing unconditional love and support:
families that are flexible and adaptive,
that can stand any storm.
Bless all who are travelling to gatherings
that they can’t wait to get to.
And then there are other families,
where tension, suspicion and judgement
vie for power with love and acceptance.
Sentences begin with “You always…”
I am a Mennonite pastor currently teaching theology at Conrad Grebel University College in Waterloo, Ontario. I’ve served congregations in Ontario and most recently, Alberta.
I love to write and to lead worship! If you are finding my writing helpful, I would love to hear from you! Feel free to use or adapt the material here, it is all written by me. If printing material, please credit “Copyright Carol Penner www.leadinginworship.com” (and say whether you modified it). If publishing, please contact me for permission. Contact me at carol@leadinginworship.com
Get regular resource updates and special announcements!
