Archives for April 2012

Still Center

Even in the midst of Eastertide, I need to stop sometimes 
and reflect on what the Incarnation means to us frail folk.
This is a statue new to the retreat center I have just visited. Seeing it out there, in the middle of a small lake,
I was struck by the wonder of it all.
Here are some lovely words from two of my favorite poets that help me find my own words somehow.
May your weekend be blessed with wonder
and with rest.
Descent by Luci Shaw
Down he came from up,
and in from out,
and here from there.
A long leap,
an incandescent fall
from magnificent
to naked, frail, small,
through space,
between stars,
into our chill night air,
shrunk, in infant grace,
to our damp, cramped
earthy place
among all
the shivering sheep.
And now, after all,
there he lies,
fast asleep.
 On the Mystery of the Incarnation  
by Denise Levertov
It’s when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind’s shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word. 
 Joining the quiet communities at Sandra Heska King’s and Deidra Riggs’ sites. They gently invite us to prepare for worship by centering and quieting ourselves. Wise women, these.

Why I Am Hopeful for the Future of the Church: a Photo Essay

Four days at one of the most spectacular Catholic retreat centers in the country, just outside the great city of Chicago.

Four days of some of the most intense work I’ve done since my retirement at the end of 2010.

Four days living in a small dormitory, individual rooms, shared bathrooms, one large living room with a fluorescent light buzzing loudly enough to wake the dead and a heater occasionally cranking out warm air with a deafening whoosh.
Four days with nine other people, only a few of whom I knew at all, each with their own ideas/opinions/working styles/life experiences/biases/favorite talking points.

The work was exhausting, confusing, challenging, amorphous, multi-layered, intense, demanding and important. It was also rich, rewarding, exhilarating, and very, very good.

While breathing in a glorious whiff of springtime in the Midwest, walking to the dining room, finding long-time friends by accident, discovering shared connections with new friends, hearing stories of gospel good news from all corners of this country we share, somehow – by God’s grace – we became a team. 

Not always in agreement, sometimes dissatisfied with results, often overwhelmed by the task – we joined hearts, heads, prayers, and vision to do the work before us.

Our task? To create a weekend retreat experience as part of our denominational tool-kit; something that could be led by a trained facilitator in a variety of church settings; a brief slice of time in which people might begin to discover what it feels like to truly listen and to be fully heard.

How often do we come together with other followers of Jesus and feel as if we are invisible? Not seen, not heard, not understood. Very little in our day-to-day living – filled as it is with tight schedules, too much ‘should’ and ‘ought’ and ‘How are you?’ and ‘Oh, I’m fine…just f.i.n.e’ – very little in our lives allows enough space to practice listening well. 

We wanted to create something that would help people to find and nurture true spiritual companionship as we journey together through life. Something that would introduce the basics of attentive listening, something that would encourage the thoughtful sharing of stories, something that would include an enlivening thread of liturgical worship, a shared meal, the sacrament of communion.

We hammered away at it from Sunday night through Wednesday noon, sampling things like dwelling in the word, taking a Cleopas walk, using art or music to fill in the gaps, thinking about lifemaps and technology and crafting a blessing. 

It was tough sledding at a few points and there is much still to be done. 

But here’s the greatest gift of this time away, this intense stretch of little sleep, lots of questions and not quite enough answers:  

I discovered a beautiful sprouting thing in the center of my spirit – a thing with wings and light-filled, buoyant beauty. And it’s name is HOPE. 

And right here is where much of that hope is centered: three women who are pastors. Three beautiful-to-the-core, loving, creative, committed, intelligent, Jesus-loving, kingdom-building, forward-thinking, open-hearted, life-giving leaders in our denomination who will change the church as we know it. ALL FOR THE GOOD. Becky from Ohio, Diana from Illinois, Michelle from Massachusetts – each of them gifted by God and called ‘for such a time as this.’ Each of them eager to follow the Nazarene wherever he may lead them, each of them fearless in their faith, pushing the envelope of ‘that’s how it’s always been done,’ seeking the pearl of great price, no matter the cost.

So, as I flew home on Wednesday night, I gave deep thanks for the work of the Spirit in our midst. I basked in the afterglow of new-found friendship. I rested in the knowledge that the God we serve is ever-faithful, ever-present, ever-guiding and guarding the church.

As the California ground got closer and closer, I marveled at the rich communion just enjoyed in Chicago, all of it centered around our shared commitment to the deep ways of God. I rejoiced in the wisdom of older saints, in the commitment of denominational leaders to finding new ways of going ‘higher up and further in,’ and the energy and probing thoughtfulness of the entire group. One woman ran a marathon on Sunday and flew west that night. One man participated in a spiritual directors’ graduation ceremony on Sunday and took the red-eye east to join us on Monday morning.

We all thought this was important work, creating the last in a set of three retreat options for the broader church, this one focusing on leaning into and learning from one another. That sense of shared values and high commitment fueled each piece of the discussion and experimentation of our time together.

Over the next two months, I must assemble all our notes, all our thoughts and prayers and goals and guesses into some sort of cohesive whole. This will be a work in progress for a number of months, with pilot experiences in the fall.

We hope to end up with something that encourages people to journey more deeply together. For if there is one thing I know at this end of life’s twists and turns, it is this: there truly are NO ‘Lone Ranger’ Christians. We need each other, we are better together, we are meant to be a living body of believers, connected 
by the binding, energizing power of the Holy Spirit, 
by the shed blood of Jesus Christ who shared our flesh, 
by the creative, living presence of Almighty God.

My deep thanks to Doreen Olson, Executive Minister of the Department of Christian Formation of the Evangelical Covenant Church, to Millie Lungren, Director of Covenant Resources and overseer for Prayer Ministries for the DCF, and to Diana Shiflett, spiritual director and Associate Pastor at Naperville Covenant Church, for her skill and grace in facilitating this experience.

The rest of our team consisted of:
Ron Ferguson, Associate Pastor, and spiritual director from Keene, New Hampshire
Jim Gaderlund, retired pastor, spiritual director, coordinator for Re-Visioning and Sabbath Retreats for the denomination from Mountain View CA
Letha Kerl, spiritual director and Regional Co-Director for Missions in Europe and Africa from Lyons, France and the Seattle area while on home assignment
John Kiemele, spiritual director, Founder and Director of Selah Contemplative Retreats, Seattle WA 
Becky Przybylski, Associate Pastor, Toledo OH
Michelle Sanchez, Associate Pastor, Medford MA, in training for spiritual direction 

I will be posting this with Michelle at Graceful, with Jen at Finding Heaven, with Laura at The Wellspring and with L.L. at Seedlings in Stone. You can find their buttons on the sidebar to the right.

Mother Letters: The Stuff of Heroes

a blurry snapshot of a professional photo taken by Rich Austen of Austen’s Photography, Arroyo Grande CA. His work is excellent, mine not-so-much.

Dear Mother, My First-Born and Mama-to-Our-First-Grandchild,

Have I ever told you that you’re my hero(ine)? The first child born to us, teaching us the depths of love by your very presence, filling us with delight and providing endless hours of entertainment! 

That first child teaches his or her parents so, so much – as you discovered, at exactly the same age I was when you were born. How I admired your parenting instincts, right from the get-go. I remembered my own early fumbling and worrying and over-protective hovering with chagrin as I watched you let that boy of yours climb anything and everything, no matter how high. He was fearless! And how you delighted in that, how you celebrated it. 

Such a gift to give a child! 

Two more boys followed that first one, all three of them miracles of grace and goodness and fun. Because their dad had been so very sick early in his life, each of those healthy baby boys was a true miracle, the result of God’s grace and your love for one another and for each of them. You took trips and had adventures, tried scouting and read books by the basketful, taught them to love well, to create art and music and to grow friendships that went deep. 

And then things got pretty tough for several years. The after-effects of treatment received many years before brought suffering and eventually such loss. And you walked through every second of that with courage and commitment, with honesty and hard work and frayed nerves and sleepless nights and 

And your boys walked right with you, learning lessons we all hoped and prayed they’d never have to learn. Together you and their dad decided to be a family until the end, no matter how hard it got. And the two of you set such an example of courage for your small circle of five and for our extended families on both sides and for all the people who loved you. Yes, you are my hero, dear one. Every inch of you brave beyond belief. 

And now, nearly four years later, there is grace and there is laughter, buoyed by strong memories of the past and strong hopes for the future. God sent love again, a good man to be your companion and an encourager for your sons. 

One of those has flown the nest, another will soon follow. And your own courage and steady commitment over these 21 years has given them beautiful, resilient wings – wings that will take them safely to the next stage of life. I know this because I know about redemption. I know about grace. I know about commitment. I know about courage. 

And I know these truths most deeply because God gave me you. Because God allowed me the great privilege of being your mom. Because you and your sister and your brother are living proof that the age of miracles is not past. Somehow, you survived all the mistakes I made and thrived! Thanks be to God. 

I love you, 


The final installment for Amber Haines’ collection of Mother Letters at her site, as she and Seth launch their exquisite eBook of the same title. You can find the latest letters at this link:

Mother Letters: Just Like You

a blurry snapshot of a professional photo taken by Rich Austen of Austen’s Photography, Arroyo Grande CA. His work is excellent, mine not-so-much.

Dear Mother-in-the-Middle of my three favorite moms, 

Do you remember when you found out you were pregnant for the very first time? How you slid to the floor in a puddle and worried out loud that you might have a baby who was “just like me?” And I followed you right down to the floor and said, “Then you will thank God with everything that is in you for such an indescribable gift?” 

Well, I really, really meant that. You were and are one of God’s best gifts to me and to your dad. As I have watched you mothering those three boys of yours for nearly 14 years now, I have been amazed. Amazed and grateful and thunderstruck. Because you are so very good at this gig, my girl. SO good. 

It’s not an easy job, is it? Losing sleep, feeling confused at times, wondering how you are going to make it through one more round of snotty noses and strep throat and allergy season. It’s tough to juggle all that is required as you do this work. I know that part all too well. 

But I didn’t manage to do even half of what you’ve accomplished. I stayed home with you and your younger brother and older sister. I chose to do so and I was blessed to be able to do so because your dad was ‘the breadwinner’ in those long ago days. 

Things have changed, haven’t they? 

You trained for a specialized job, working with blind students, and you’ve always worked at it – part time until boy #3 was three, full time the last few years. I truly do not know how you manage to keep all the plates twirling so magnificently. 

Well, I do know some of it: you’ve got a husband who jumps into all of it with both feet, offering encouragement, hands-on support and many layers of capability. And the two of you together chose this life you live – both of you in special ed with flexible schedules and summers off (mostly!)

Still…you are the beating heart of that wonderful home you keep. I watch you when we stay with you. Always quietly moving through the rooms, picking up, straightening, checking on homework, planning lunches. 

Also, entertaining guests almost every weekend – quite often 30 at a time!, maintaining deep friendships, serving as an elder at your church. You never do anything by halves – and you never have. 

Your children adore you – such fine young men they are becoming! Loving and kind, hard-working, smart, fun and funny. You are doing a great job, Mom-of-my-heart. Yes, you are. 

And, in truth, I do see you in each of those three boys. I can’t even tell you how deeply glad I am about that. Because you are a woman of valor – of deep, real beauty, both inside and out. You have the best laugh in the world and such a tender heart. You willingly admit your own doubts and questions, you seek honest answers to the tough stuff, you use your natural insights into human nature so very well. These are the things I see reflected in your children, good gifts that will serve them well as they move out into the world. 

After all, they are a lot like their mother. 

I love you, 


This one is being added to Amber Haines’ Link-up celebrating the release of Mother Letters:Sharing the Mess and the Glory. Have you seen this wonderful e-Book Amber and Seth have assembled from over 500 moms? I am an affiliate for this work of art – because I believe in the encouragement this project has provided to so many who are doing the hard/wonderful work of mothering. Check it out at:

In Which I Am Honored to Be a Guest at Sarah’s Place

If there is one thing I have learned after 15 months of regular blogging, it is this: THERE ARE HUNDREDS OF FABULOUS PEOPLE OUT HERE. And one of my very favorites is Sarah Styles Bessey, who writes over at Emerging Mummy. Sarah did an amazing thing this week: she compiled a list of 50 “Lady Bloggers” who are making a contribution to the ongoing cyber discussion of faith and life. It’s a wonderful, list – rich with variety and spice and fabulous stuff.

But I noticed something and I wrote to her about it: there were only 1 or 2 names whose lifespan exceeded about 40 years. And that felt like a sizable gap to me – and it felt the same way to her. So she challenged me to create a list of my own – of articulate women over the age of 50. What a great project to do. I enlisted the help of some friends and today, Sarah is posting the list at her place. I urge you to go over and check out some of the blogs we’ve found. And I know there are lots and lots of others out there, too – so leave a comment, either here or there, and send us lookin’ for more.

And a huge thank you to Sarah for her hospitality!

Here’s the link:

Dear Mother: Inviting Strength in the MIddle of the Scary Stuff

a blurry snapshot of a professional photo taken by Rich Austen of Austen’s Photography, Arroyo Grande CA. His work is excellent, mine not-so-much.

Dear Mother,

I watch you making room for courage in your little one, your toddler-sized daughter, and inside, I stand up and cheer. Yes! That girl you’ve got has spunk – that indefinable core stuff that looks at life as a challenge to be met head-on.

She knows her own mind, that 2-year-old of yours. She wants what she wants when she wants it and you are so wise as you deal with that willfulness. You hold onto it and treasure it, you recognize it for what it truly is: a gift that will serve her well as she grows into womanhood.

Yet you help her know that there are boundaries to be kept and you invite her to learn what they are, to grow increasingly comfortable with where they are and to honor them, especially as she is learning to navigate social and family relationships.

I listen as you offer clear, firm, yet gentle correction when the ‘NOs” become too frequent or too boisterous. I watch as you always sweeten your intervention with hugs, kisses, and the wise offering of an alternate choice that will both keep the peace and maintain her personal sense of justice.

Just in the last month or so, our girl has found some things in this world that are scary – loud noises most especially: vacuum cleaners, mixers, power mowers. Always, she has been fearless – climbing anything, reaching for life with all the enthusiasm her small bones can carry. Now she is beginning to see that some things in this life are bigger and louder than she is – and she shrinks back, momentarily overwhelmed. 

Thank you for acknowledging and validating her fears and then inviting her to move right on past them. Thank you for holding her close when she feels off-balance and uncertain. But thank you, too, for all your gentle encouragement to keep a firm grip on life even when it gets scary. Thank you for inviting her to be brave – not reckless, but truly brave. 

I believe in this girl. And I believe in you. You are fully up to the challenge of raising a strong-willed child – so gracious, patient and welcoming to all of who she is. May God grant you peace and confidence as you continue to mother her (and her bigger sister) so beautifully and well. You provide a safe haven from which she will continue to fly into life, even when it gets scary. She is a gift. And so are you.

Much love,


Adding this to Amber Haines’ MotherLetters collection, designed to celebrate moms and to encourage them in this oh-so-important life journey. You can add your own words of hope and promise by checking out this link:

Quiet Time, Nourishing Time

“Look around you: 
Winter is over; 
the winter rains are over, gone! 
Spring flowers are in blossom all over. 
The whole world’s a choir—and singing! 
Spring warblers are filling the forest with sweet arpeggios. 
Lilacs are exuberantly purple and perfumed, 
and cherry trees fragrant with blossoms. 
Oh, get up, dear friend, 
my fair and beautiful lover—come to me! 
Come, my shy and modest dove— 
leave your seclusion, come out in the open. 
Let me see your face, let me hear your voice. 
For your voice is soothing and your face is ravishing.”
Song of Solomon 2:9-11, The Message

May you find blossoms 
wherever your feet may take you this weekend.
Songbirds, too.
And may you enjoy the surprising and welcome presence 
of dear friends, 
(whether or not they are also your spouse),
those who nourish you by their very presence,
whose voices soothe,
whose faces remind you of God’s amazing love for you. 
Enjoying the colors and sounds of spring on the west coast this weekend, despite frequent visits from spring (as opposed to winter!) rains. Joining with my good friends Sandy King and Deidra Riggs for their weekly invitation to change up the pace, slow things down and quietly center in God’s good gifts.

Midweek Meanderings: a Photo Essay

The 5-point (meaning I pivoted 5 times to get the whole thing), 240 degree view from our back terrace this week. Sigh.

The rain last night was lovely, clearing the air, greening the hillside,
encouraging a warming fire in the fireplace. 
This morning, all the clouds are piled up to the south,
slowly making their way to our real home,
and the homes of our children.
 These shots taken on my afternoon circular walks around the driveway. Once, this was a grand central CA home. Now it is an amazing view with a very run-down house. It makes me sad to see homes neglected, but we are grateful for what there is in this spectacular vacation space, hanging over the bluffs with the hills just behind. And there’s lots of room to spread out, which is a good thing with

We’ve been together since last Friday,
spread out in a large, hacienda-style rented home.
A place in need of some major TLC – 
but with a killer view of the Pacific coast.
Birds flourish here.
And so do children.
The 2-year-old runs headlong down the hill toward the bluff,  causing gasps on all sides.
But someone bigger is always nearby 
to step between her and the abyss.
May it always be so!
Eastertide is a season for celebration and for gratitude,
for remembering who we are as the people of God.
And here, on this rugged shore,
with a 17-year-old asking good, hard questions,
two 13-year-0lds sharing a kayak adventure,
a 10-year-old giggling his way through a great game of ping-pong and two 6-year-olds alternately 
adoring and infuriating one another,
we are celebrating.
And we are grateful.
Even the 21-year-old was here for the weekend,
before heading back to school and responsibilities,
four hours south of this gathering place.
Our adult children are good and interesting people.
Their spouses are kind and good-natured.
All of them are attentive parents and generous housemates.
We observed Easter at a church unknown to any of us and followed with a feast, just as the Christian church has done for centuries. We are also celebrating the 70th birthday of Poppy, 
our loved and lovable patriarch, the acceptance into his 1st choice college for the 17-year-old and a good private high school scholarship for one of the 13-year-olds.
After so many years of struggle and loss,
it is good to gather in gratitude.
We even took a family photo … the first ever … 
to round out the weekend just past.
The photographer is working on the touch-ups
and we will soon have a lasting memento of this time spent together, 
possibly by week’s end.

 The hunters and the hiders – not sure who enjoys the Easter Egg Hunt the most.
Though she loves the idea of hunting and hiding, Lilly does not quite fully grasp the concept. Generally, if she hides, she guides the hunter until she’s found. :>)
In the meantime,
we soak in the beauty around us,
explore the small towns that circle round the sea,
while some play tennis,
and others a little b-ball.
One daughter and her husband paid for two days of heating the pool on the property and about half the crowd
jumped in and enjoyed getting wet and tired.
We’ve had an egg hunt or two,
enjoyed delicious home-cooked meals,
even traveled to a local ice-cream maker’s
“All You Can Eat” Tuesday celebration.
In a beat-up side room, there is a pool table and ping-pong,
and someone contributed a 2000 piece puzzle to pour over.
Settlers of Catan has made an appearance and Bananagrams, too, 
so no one seems bored. 
Many naps are taken in this house, 
signaling the welcome arrival of true relaxation
and energizing Sabbath rest.
We all point and shout, 
thanking God for sightings of otters,
sea lions, an occasional dolphin – 
even a whale, far out in the bay.
Avila Beach, just north of where we are.
A creekside restaurant for lunch in San Luis Obispo
Through it all, we thank God for the richness of family life,
the push and pull of living in the same space,
sharing the work and the fun,
watching the children grow in wisdom and in stature.
Friday, we return to reality.
Or at least to our usual list of responsibilities and commitments. 
Sometimes, though, I do believe that experiences like this week are the true reality,
life as it was originally designed to be lived.
Maybe everything else is mere illusion,
the structure that has been overlaid on human life
in the wake of Eden.
So, we’ll take these windows of grace.
And we’ll savor them, thank God for them,
take lots of pictures 
and build reservoirs of stories to share 
as the years progress.
And once in a while,
I’ll write about it here.
Because I really do believe that
this is the truest part of me.
At least, until Friday.

I’ll sign this one on with Michelle at “Graceful,” Jen at “Finding Heaven,” Ann at “A Holy Experience,” Em at “Canvas Child,” Laura at “The Wellspring,” Laura at “Seedlings in Stone,” and Jennifer at “Getting Down with Jesus.” I encourage you all to check out these fine blogs – but I am having increasing difficulty getting buttons to show up in the new blogger format. If anyone has any shortcuts for this tedious job, I’d love to hear them.


The Source of Life…a Guest Post

I am writing with the good folks over at today about some of the words in 1 John 5…

When you stop to think about it, the longevity of the church of Jesus Christ is pretty remarkable. Over 2000 years and the church still stands, proclaiming the miracle of transformation through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Jesus – who was, is and will always be the Son of God, embodying for the world the essence of God’s love. Just last week – churches all over the world walked through Holy Week, climbing to the cross in remembrance of Jesus’ sacrificial death. And just yesterday, we celebrated the glory of the empty tomb – the perfect picture of the new life found in Jesus. The vitality of our story is unchanged over time; the center remains.
Because let’s face it, without Jesus right there at the center of it all – the church is not the church. And the writer of 1 John wants to remind these early believers to hang onto to Jesus for dear life. He writes from the loving heart of a concerned pastor, someone who cares deeply about the believers in and around Ephesus. And he writes to remind them to be the church…
Joining the Community Bible Study series on 1 John today – over at The Bible Dude’s good space. Join me over there to read this whole reflection?  


Christ is risen!
Christ is risen, indeed! 

A Prayer for Easter Sunday Morning

As we whoop and holler and celebrate the end of our journey together in Lent 2012, we will greet this magnificent morning with the beautiful words of a very special and ancient prayer called the Exsultet.  It was the prayer offered  by the lowest member of the clergy, in the early church, the deacon, and it was prayed when the Christ candle was re-lit following its extinguishing on Good Friday.  Its origins can be traced to the lamp lighting in the synagogue and you can hear the echoes of our Jewish heritage in its language.  That synagogue prayer was adapted by the early church for special times of celebration, most particularly for the annual celebration of the resurrection.  On Saturday night, Christians would gather outside their places of worship to observe the Easter Vigil – that time of waiting for the hour of Christ’s rising from the dead.  Then, in the very early morning, as they lit the Easter fire, the Christ candle was re-lit and the deacon would lead the congregation in this prayer as they re-entered their sanctuaries.  As the people followed the candle, they would chant: 

“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 

Let us pray:

Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels! 
Exult, all creation around God’s throne! 
Jesus Christ, our King, is risen! 
Sound the trumpet of salvation! 

“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 

Rejoice, 0 earth, in shining splendor, 
radiant in the brightness of our King! 
Christ has conquered! Glory fills you! 
Darkness vanishes forever! 

“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 

Rejoice, 0 holy Church! Exult in glory! 
The risen Savior shines upon you! 
Let this place resound with joy, 
echoing the mighty song of all God’s people
“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 

It is truly right that we should praise you, 
invisible, almighty, and eternal God, and your Son, Jesus Christ. 
For Christ has ransomed us with his blood, 
and paid the debt of Adam’s sin to deliver your faithful people. 

“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 

This our Passover feast, when Christ, the true Lamb, is slain.  This the night when first you saved our forebears, 
you freed the people of Israel from their slavery 
and led them with dry feet through the sea. 
This the night when the pillar of fire destroyed the darkness of sin! 

“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 

This the night when Christians everywhere, 
washed clean of sin and freed from all defilement, 
are  restored to grace and grow together in holiness. 
This the night when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death

and rose triumphant from the grave. 
Truly blessed, when heaven is wedded to earth, we are reconciled to you! 

“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 

May this Easter candle mingle with the lights of heaven, 
and continue bravely burning to dispel the darkness of the night! 
May the Morning Star, which never sets, find this flame still burning. 
Christ, that Morning Star, who came back from the dead, 
and shed his peaceful light on all creation, Your Son who lives and reigns for ever and ever. 

“Christ our light! Thanks be to God!” 


A blessed Easter Celebration to you all, 
dear friends. 
Thanks for taking this journey with me, 
for your words of encouragement 
all along the way. 
I pray that we have, by the grace of God, helped each other to ‘grow together in holiness,’ as this ancient prayer so beautifully puts it.
Now may we move through Eastertide 
to Pentecost,
and then out into Ordinary Time 
remembering that we are 
Thanks be to God on high for our salvation, 
for our hope, 
for our life!