In order to round out our celebration of water, Elizabeth Smither offers a poem about this most sacred and useful of resources. 

In pondering water’s ever-changing nature and fluidity, the perpetual evolution of our own human condition came to mind.  For this, especially as it pertains to our congregation, I have gratitude.  I have gratitude that, as seekers of truth, we are willing to take new positions, to be sometimes cold and other times boiling, willing to be fluid and ever-evolving, as any true seeker does.  I am grateful for and proud of our First Unitarian family.   Thank you for inspiring me in so many ways, on so many days.

Sending you love,
Lori

P.S.  Also attached is Kathie Johnson’s beautiful poem read during yesterday’s worship, entitled “The Water.   How thoughtfully her words celebrate water’s lifelong gift to us, regardless of where we are in our evolutionary process.

The sea asks “How is your life now?”
It does so obliquely, changing color.
It is never the same on any two visits.

It is never the same in any particular
Only in generalities: tide and such matters
Wave height and suction, pebbles that rattle.

It doesn’t presume to wear a white coat
But it questions you like a psychologist
As you walk beside it on its long couch.

~ Elizabeth Smither ~

I come from the water…
fluid-filled womb that cushioned me from the beginning of my journey
until I burst through to the sunlight

I thrived on the water . . .
maternal liquid that nourished me as I metamorphosed
birth to infancy to toddler and beyond

I survive with the water . . .
sacred and pure, necessity of life
without it I shrivel and die

I share the water . . .
with family and friends and strangers alike,
for to hoard the water would be a sin

I cleanse myself with the water. . .
each time I touch or drink the water,
the ritual cleanses my soul
the water washes my body, the dishes,
the windows, the clothes, the floor,
how mundane and profound is the water
all water is holy

I frolic in and on the water. . .
joy-filled splashes on hot summer days illustrate
the miracle that I am here at this moment
gliding on blades over an icy platform, pink-cheeked
with frozen toes says I am alive, I am alive, I am alive.

Thus, I want to return to the water. .  .
do not put me in the ground to be forgotten.
Scatter me in ponds, streams, rivers, lakes, and oceans
disperse me in waterways so that I may travel the earth
until I reach the great sea, vaporize into a mist,
ascend to a cloud and return as a gentle rain to nourish future life.
Then I will have life everlasting.