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And. One small word that connects so much. In this scripture alone, it bridges all that has been or ever will be, holding together the tension between who have power and privilege and those who never have. It is also a pause, reminding us that we are always only in the present age. It is a breath.
Our present is full of conflict and fear, with news that the humanitarian crisis in Gaza continues to intensify. It is a season of anxiety as we reckon with a planet warming even more rapidly than has been predicted. It is a season of grief as we remember those we have loved and lost, even—or maybe especially—as we fill our homes with twinkling lights and gifts and favorite foods. We mourn the ones who have gone before us and those we just can't bring ourselves to speak to after what they said last year or how they hurt us all those years ago.
Of course, our present is also full of joy, of babies born and hot chocolate being drunk, of jokes told and laughter peeling forth, of hugs between old friends and long-awaited apologies and healing and hope.
And. In the vast space that this small word opens in us, take a breath. And know that no matter what this moment presents you with, you are not alone. God is with you. You and God, close as your next breath. Take a chance to take a breath and practice whichever one of the breath prayers by Cole Arthur Riley, author of Black Liturgies, speaks to you in this present moment. *And* maybe save these for when you need another kind of respite at another time.
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