The Call to Prayer
Let us give thanks to the LORD for His mercy and the wonders He does for his children. For He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. Psalm 107:8–9
And my hungry Is filled with good things.
And that’s not just about Thursday’s after work snack of oysters and olives and carrots with Dre and Adam, tucked into a patio table at Johnny Gibson’s downtown.
And Friday one of the community groups were back out under the autumn stars, curled up on and around the backyard cushions, nibbling melted cheeses draped in chutney and homemade bread and roasted beets and walnuts before walking across the street to hear the Bern and to pray for our country as it heads into another year of politics. God have mercy on us. And Carlos Azarte parked his car in our front yard so his kid could witness the democratic process happening here in Tucson, and he sang a song of longing afterwards as we finished up the nibbling curled up on and around the living room couches.
Or Saturday’s potato pierogi dribbled over with mushroom sauce at Tucson Meet Yourself cooking booth. I thought I was signing my mom and me up for a refugee babysitting afternoon in some apartment building complex and I brought Dr. Suess books and crayons and sidewalk chalk, but somehow we ended up behind the “old building” Pima County Courthouse sort of watching a bright-eyed Ukrainian boy help his mom demonstrate making pasta rounds with potato water and filling them with winter cabbage and then folding them in half and pinching a decorative twist around the edges.
And Alan and I walked over to Café Passe after church last night and Chris’s sermon about the hearts of outsiders, the Gentile magi, being exceedingly full of joy and shared a small bowl of cheese kaesespaetzle and large tumblers of Ayinger Herfeweizen and Jerry Jordan talked about his grandpa’s funeral and life in Leipzig, Germany.
And the whole time I watched that little Ukrainian refuge boy roll out his noodle dough and punch out rounds with a blue plastic cup I thought about little children. The ones we are to be like. Bright-eyed and in the moment. Unaware of the pushing and rumbling and swirling crowds around. Well, not so much unaware, but unconcerned. Because his momma had it all under control. And he was sturdy in her love. And all he had to think about was the simple delight of rolling out dough and punching rounds.
So he called a little child to him whom he set among them. Then he said, ‘In truth I tell you, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven. And so, one who makes himself as little as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven.’ Matthew 18:1–4
And every morning the Imago Dei community sings together. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence and take not your holy Spirit from me. Give me the joy of your saving help again and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit. Psalm 51
And now my tummy is full of oatmeal and three cups of water and one cup of espresso. And I am about to hop on my bicycle and ride into the sunrise with one of those biking clumps.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. A spirit of childish joy and delight in Your bountiful Spirit.
And He shall be their peace. Micah 5:12