Oasis time in the middle of the day...

A small but vibrant midday Eucharist today ~ and totally blessed.  We pondered what Psalm 126 might be saying to us:

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,   we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy;
then it was said among the nations,
‘The Lord has done great things for them.’
The Lord has done great things for us,
and we rejoiced. Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
like the watercourses in the Negeb.
May those who sow in tears
reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy,
carrying their sheaves.

This evoked thoughts of gratitude - the rhythm of our life cycles - how good and hard times all have the potential to bring nourishment (trust and faith by grace) and our own experience with shouts of joy and tears of sorrow.  Then, as we've been doing in Lent, I read one of Nouwen's reflections re: the Prodigal Son.  Specifically, the Father's commitment to share only blessing even when his heart has been pierced.  One loyal member noted that the exclusive language was getting in the way of sensing the deep nature of God's grace, so we flipped genders and tried that, too.

And THAT'S when things got interesting:  this is actually a description of the feminine face of God, said one person, and I've never see that before until we switched pronouns.  After a little more conversation an idea popped up that I think has legs:  what would happen if this parable were rewritten to be a conversation between a mother and father - both the feminine and masculine face of God - set in our context?  We were all energized about that possibility and let it sit within our imaginations for another time.  But what a GREAT idea... and what a fascinating conversation might bubble up afterwards, too.

We gathered then around the table, blessed and broke bread and shared the cup and offered prayers for one another.  This midday oasis is a time for gentle contemplation and quiet prayer and I always leave refreshed in ways I hadn't realized I needed.