The Reverend Dr. William A. Evertsberg

Generous God, in whom there is no variation nor shadow of change, you have filled our hearts and lives with so many lavish gifts, we hardly know where to begin with our catalogue of thanksgivings, or where to end.

We give you thanks for summer’s “luminous sprawl of gifts”,[1]
The timely, fecund thunderstorms,
The lush canopy above the village lanes,
and the rolling emerald across every meadow.

We give you thanks for American ancestors who fought for comprehensive freedoms.
And then engaged their creative intellects to build the architecture of democracy, when such a system was a juvenile idea and barely known.
We give you thanks for freedom from authoritarians.
Freedom to worship your multivalent Being in a thousand different halting but authentic human ways.

We give you thanks for these nearly miraculous vaccines that have set us mostly free from virus.
Freedom to visit the cousins, the grandparents, the grandchildren.
Freedom to travel to Saugatuck or Sister Bay.
Freedom to attend sailing camp, tennis camp, soccer camp, Boundary Waters camp.
Freedom to return to pack up all the linens and devices and books and travel to a real, honest-to-goodness college campus.
Freedom to serve the least, the last, the lost, the lonely, the ones Jesus spent all his time hanging out with.

With our doxologies, Lord, we also bring you our intercessions.
We pray for Father David and Son David after the death of wife and mother Barbara.
Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace.

We pray for families in Florida still anxious with uncertainty or bereft after traumatic loss.  Be near to those troubled spirits and broken hearts.

We pray for our friends facing long, chronic illness or recent dire diagnosis, or serious surgery.  You know their names and their needs better than we.  Gather them up into your tender safekeeping.

From the common mix of profound thanksgivings and pressing needs, we offer it all up to your ancient perfect wisdom, along with prayer of our Lord… Our Father…

[1]Poet Mary Oliver

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