Friday, June 12, 2026

Dear God,

Bad storms ripped through our community last night.  It was a little scary and anxiety-producing.  When the siren sounded, I carried my pillows and blanket and made a makeshift bed on the landing in the stairwell.  There I fell asleep.  Nearly an hour later when I awakened, I made my way back to bed.

This morning as I look out over the yard, I think of how faith works the same way.  When bad things come our way and they do, you invite us into your arms where you cradle us during the scary moments.  You hold us for however long we need to stay.  The best part is that we can find comfort, peace and hope there until we are able to return to where we were to face the worst.

Thank you,

Wondrous and Loving God,

for the

amazing gift

of faith.

When we

trust you

in our

difficult times, 

our faith increases

giving us opportunity

to find what

we need.

Thank you

for my

early morning lesson.

Yours, Andrea

Thursday, June 11, 2026

Dear God,

It's a rainy day.  The skies are gray, the rain comes down in tiny droplets and the grass is turning green right in front of me.  

I love rainy days because they always remind me of your provision.  Without the rain there would be no growth, no flowers, no food, no color and no hope.  Life would be withered and brown.  But with it there is abundance.

I use rainy days to say thank you, to express my gratitude for all the good things of life.  I stretch my heart, mind and soul to give myself a cup of living water and if I am out and about, I pour some out of my cup to give others.

But the best part of rainy days is that I open myself more deeply to you, to put my roots down deeper into your creation and to discover even more deeply the depth and width of faith.  I find you as Great Mystery as creator, teacher and challenger.  In the quiet rain you and I dwell together.

All of this

is your

holy work,

O God.

Without you,

I too

would wither

and die.

Thank you

for your

gracious love

and tender care.

Thank you

for your

every provision.

Yours, Andrea

Tuesday, June 9, 2026

Dear God,

There is something about early morning that persuades me to think about the state of our nation and the world.  I think of personal stuff that leaves me wondering if and when anything will change.  All around me are people suffering with anxiety, loss and fear.  It is easy to sink into doubt and despair.  But then that's when the sun rises, the colors of the rainbow take over the skies and birds begin to sing.  And I think there is so much more than brokenness, conflict and hatred.

We have to train our minds to consider all there is, not just part of what is.  And really there is always more good which are the things of eternity, holy things.  A sunrise, an unexpected kindness, bunnies, chipmunks and squirrels scurrying across the backyard.  When our president says and does something terrible to injure, damage or destroy and I am tempted to take the bait, I remember the birdsong, the sunset, and the laughter of great grandchildren.  

The beauty of faith is death and resurrection live together.  So does truth and falsehood, light and darkness, and hope and hopelessness.  When we choose that which is sacred and divine, we can rise up again and again allowing no one to take away our peace, hope and joy.

We teeter

on the fence

of life

every day,

O God.

It is

so convincing

to fall

into the

dark side

of life.

But daily

you provide light

if our eyes

are open

to what

is coming.

Thank you

for giving

the light

and being

the light.

Yours, Andrea

Monday, June 8, 2026

Dear God,

Sometimes we have to wait to receive an answer to prayer, a healing or a hope.  At times it does not arrive in the way we had longed. Sometimes it does not come at all.  However, the real gift of prayer and hoping is that we draw close to you.  Our faith grows.  Our patience increases.  Our wisdom can come to life.  Lessons can be learned.  

More and more you teach us to trust you, to lean on you and to long for your answer, direction or hope for our lives.  When we are able to let go, to surrender into your arms, we have greater opportunities for eyes opening, minds more receptive and hearts ready to be held and to hold.  It just may be that blessings, inspiration and gifts will come pouring out even better than those we wished for.

Thank you,

Loving God,

for teaching us

to wait.

Thank you

for all

you give us

in our

waiting time.

Direct us

to you

every time.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, June 7, 2026

Dear God,

"There is room at the table for everyone," Carrie Newcomer sang recently.  Room at the table, oh yes, there was always room at Grandma's table for one more or two or many.  No one had to declare their politics or religion, no economic status or color and no gender or sexual orientation.  Come on in there is room at the table, Grandma would say.

In a world hellbent to disregard, disrespect and reject people, making room for everyone at the table is so vitally important.  How could a nation or world be good if only some were invited in?  Because tables were so wonderful, so inclusive and so beautiful, sitting at Grandma's table was one of my most favorite things even when I was little and had an opportunity to stay at Grandma's farm home.  I loved her table and I loved her.

Grandma's table was a lot like yours.  In fact, it was just like yours.

O God, 

thank you

for including

us all

at your table.

Thank you

for love

that grows

at tables.

Thank you

for teaching us

your better way.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, June 6, 2026

Dear God,

Sometimes at bedtime I just need a little comfort, not just from anyone but from you.  So, I stretch out my hand on the bed and imagine you holding my hand.  More often than not, I am able to fall right to sleep.

I do this for me but also for those around the world who also need a hand to hold.  As I reach out, I visualize others like me who just need a little or a lot of comfort from someone who cares.  I have come to realize we are all connected to one another.  When one hurts, something in me hurts as well.  I can feel the pain of hurting people.  When I pray, I do not pray just for me and mine but also for others near and far away, for strangers, neighbors and lost strays.  How can I possibly pray for me without praying for them?

Holy God,

thank you

for the

sacred place

inside me

who feels

the pain

of others.

Help us 

all feel

the holy connection

with you

and one another,

we pray.

Love, Andrea

Friday, June 5, 2026

Dear God,

There is a cacophony of sound just outside my study window.  Birds in the bushes and trees are singing their own song of praise just like I did a couple of hours ago from my bed.  I whispered my mantra, The Lord is my shepherd, the Lord is my shepherd, my shepherd the Lord is.  Like the birds I sang my song of praise.

The twenty third psalm has long been a great comfort and joy for me.  As a young person I liked the words and images.  As a pastor when I performed memorial services, I read Psalm 23 as a request from grieving families. 

This year has been different for me because at the beginning of the year I declared 2026 as my Psalm 23 year.  Each morning I prayerfully read the words of the psalmist.  Some days the words Lord or green pastures or still waters or table will lift off the pages, drenched in meaning and peace.  Sometimes after reading the holy text, I put the passage next to my heart and feel its peace drain into my heart.  In doing do, I find your heart next to my own.

Thank you,

Holy God,

for opening doors

to sacred pathways.

Thank you

for the

inner peace

you give

when we

open ourselves

more deeply

to you.

Thank you

for taking

the first step

toward my devotion.

Love, Andrea