You are the rock, the solid ground.
You are the mountain rock, impossible to comprehend up close.
From a distance, you are unmoving; the same, present, reference point.
I name you God, the rock solid mountain.
I promise that I will try to find you, the solid ground,
and place my feet,
I promise that I will look for you in the distance
to know always where I am by
where I am in relation to you.
You are the one who walks, the one who laughs, and weeps.
You are the deep soul of shared meals, of sacrifice, of a new day, a new song.
You tell the stories. The stories shape the day.
I name you Christ, the laughable, laughing, singer of this life.
I promise that when I tell a story I will try to tell it as you hope
I'll tell it.
I will listen into the story they tell.
I promise to laugh and be laughable, to cry,
and to walk.
You are mover and change-lover. You are knitter and sitter.
You shield us from the wind, you are the wind.
I name you Holy Spirit.
I promise that I will open the windows and let you blow through the room of me.
I promise to follow you through the doorways you open.
June 14, 2003