Cara Smart

ALT Prayer with the words: Holy Spirit, you gave the disciples the ability to communicate your love to all those they met, and envision a world where all your children are treated with dignity, compassion and kept safe from all harm and abuse; strengthen us with courage, wisdom and integrity, that, as your church here in this place, we may protect, safeguard and care for ourselves and those around us, this day and always.  Amen.

ALT Identity I was a mother before my children were born, a daughter before I had a name, I contained within me the breath of God before my lungs filled with air, God was a Father before we called him that ourselves, Jesus a Son when his name was still Word, the Spirit hovered over waters that were yet to break. We learn to breathe by the absence of blood, we learn of love through relationship with others, we learn of salvation by the presence of blood once more.

ALT When bow touches string before the oval dots begin to sing they settle on the stave, fingers start to listen, moving imperceptibly to attune themselves just so and not a semitone more pause, breathe in all who have played before you, the interpretations they birthed are now fully grown adults. this moment when migrating birds return home, when flickering flame gives rise to roaring fire, when tides rush underneath your feet and escape the shore; however pianissimo your beginning, this moment when bow touches string, the music becomes yours.

ALT lie in the soothing stillness and wait keep your eyes open unblinking, unmoving, unresting wait as your sight become hyper-focused. let stars appear where they weren't before, twinkling awake until the sky becomes an eternity ring just for you wait for God's hand to flash across the darkness blazing the brightest meteoric trail of light as if to say: I am yours I am yours I am yours

ALT Autumn retriever  Unceasingly repetitive, you bound back again and again for more, autumnal mud dances between your paws, a swirling cascade of chocolate brownie batter. Did you know your dirt covered ball is imprinted with visible universes that whorl and sparkle at the ends of my hands? You swerve gracefully, churning molten nutrients, folding them back into dense elixir careful not to overwork the bake, lest it become too chewy in mouths that recycle. Unceasingly repetitive, I throw the ball once more.