I am pleased and honored to lead our prayers tonight. Pastor Dan has set a very high bar, but I know that his electronic flock is very forgiving, so here we go.
Throughout history, humankind has found a sense of hope and renewal in every Spring. For me, it is when Spring comes, and the first crocus pops its head through the snow. Thus has it ever been, from the time that our ancestors huddled in their caves, hoping that, this year, Spring would return, the days would lengthen, the leaves would green, the crops would grow and children would be born.
Imagine waiting in the dark, for months on end, not knowing if life would ever return to a time when you weren't cold, hungry and without hope. And then, suddenly, the days would get longer, the scent of flowers and tree buds bursting would fill the air and then, suddenly, you would know that everything would be all right.
Stonehenge on the first day of Spring
I wait for my crocuses, literally and figuratively, every year. I have known what it is like to believe that things will never be as good as they were, ever again, and I have prayed and kept hoping that I would find my crocus.
Accordingly, tonight, I offer an opportunity for prayers of hope and renewal for this community and for those we love. Prayers for relationships, prayers for health, prayers for jobs, prayers for real hope and change and prayers for whatever else moves your loving souls. May you and those you love find your crocuses.
I'll leave you this evening with a poem (really a prayer), A Prayer in Spring, by Robert Frost that my dear sweet Mother-In-Law turned me on to.
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.
For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.
And yet one, more, an excerpt from The Crocus by Harriet Beecher Stowe.
In blue and yellow from its grave
Springs up the crocus fair,
And God shall raise those bright blue eyes,
Those sunny waves of hair.
Not for a fading summer's morn,
Not for a fleeting hour,
But for an endless age of bliss,
Shall rise our heart's dear flower
Blessings and gratitude to Pastor Dan for trusting us, his virtual flock, with the continuation and tending of the Brothers and Sisters series.
Fondly,
SpamNunn