“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“We are so good at imagining dystopia…[but]…What does flourishing look like? 
How do we practice it?”     ~Laurel Schneider

“Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” 

~Francis of Assissi

Beloveds–

Imagining dystopia isn’t something we need to work hard at, as human beings alive at this particular moment, but I think it might serve us well to think about flourishing, to consider how to practice it actively, to spread it around, to look for evidence of its existence and possibility. 

Surely beauty is part of flourishing, and I love the above words from the late medieval saint, best known as a preacher of the simple life and the patron of animals, who (I am realizing now) is often portrayed with hands reaching out to touch. I always assumed he was reaching out in compassion, care, nurturing (which I’m sure is true), but before encountering that quotation, it didn’t occur to me that he was also caring for his own soul by touching the beauty around him. 

Which leads me to wonder: What beauty have my hands encountered and imbibed? Here’s an entirely incomplete list from the last 24 hours: a thick, ancient (100 years, maybe older) vine crawling through the greenery on the hillside beside our sanctuary, a good friend in a hug, the hair of my children, the belly of the small dog who accompanies one of them to our house, the novel I finished this morning about the power of growth and community-building (The Girls Who Grew Big, by Leila Mottley), the mug, painted in Poland and gifted to me by my mother, out of which I drank this morning’s tea while reading. I could go on, but I’d rather think of you leaving this paragraph to go touch and imbibe the beauty of the world around you. 

The world is full of beauty. Please partake: I have a hunch our flourishing depends on it.

Yours in love and beauty,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“Expect nothing. Live frugally on surprise.” –Alice Walker
“Sanctuary is where we dream in safety.” – Leela Sinha

Dear Ones–

How has your summer been? I am “back” from time away from work, and although I travelled only a small bit (and that unexpectedly), it has been good to have time just for myself and family. Now I’m ready to see what this church year brings us and excited to live into our responses to each other and the world around us. How rich in surprise can we be? What dreams can we grow in the shelter of each other? 

Let’s find out!

Yours, in expectation and hope,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

“Ministry is always shared because liberation is always collective.”
~Rev. Robin Tanner

Beloveds,

I spent last week mostly online, participating first in Ministry Days with my colleagues (other members of the UU Ministers Association) and then in the General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA), along with GNUUC delegates (Kristin Reveal and Caren Spencer-Smith). Your delegates and I met new people, considered the needs of our association and congregation, and voted on several issues of immediate concern, as well as the normal elections for UUA officers. I hope to report back to you a bit further in August. 

This week, I am preparing for our exploration on Sunday of the final piece of our GNUUC covenant, in which we promise “to support each other in thought, word, and deed, as we work to build a better world.” 

Our support for each other is truly shared ministry–both in the work of simply caring for each other and in the way it nourishes our efforts to build love and liberation in the world. We know we are not truly free until all of us are free (right?) and as the world around makes us ever more aware that we are not all free, the (sometimes) hard work we do in offering care and support to each other in our small corner of the world is a shared ministry that truly matters in the beautifully wide collective liberation for which we long.

Yours in sharing the challenges of ministry and the joy of liberation,

Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

P.S. This is my last eblast note for the 2024-25 church year! As is my custom, I shall be on vacation for the month of July (and I will miss you and look forward to seeing you again in August). If you’ve been wanting to talk with me, now is a great time to reach out and set a time to meet! And if you experience an urgent pastoral need while I am away, please call or email the church office (gnuuc@gnuuc.org; 615-673-7699) with a brief message with whatever information you are comfortable sharing, and our administrator, Kris, will connect you with a minister.

Dear Ones,

Just a quick note today, because I am participating in both Ministry Days and General Assembly this week. I am grateful that you are a congregation that supports me in maintaining connections with our Unitarian Universalist Association and in tapping the rich resources of learning, support, and community available in that association. Especially in these times, it is crucial for all of us that we strengthen the bonds between us. 

Yours in solidarity and hope amid all that is,
Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

P.S. Don’t forget: This Sunday we will meet early to watch the livestream of the worship service from General Assembly, beginning at 10 am.

“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way.
On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”
~Arundhati Roy

Friends,

We are, always, in between worlds, moving between what has been, what is, and what is on the way. We do this more or less gracefully, more or less willingly, and with all sorts of feelings about what is and about what is changing. I like the idea of pausing to listen for the breath of new possibilities as we struggle through the now.

At the moment, much of my attention is on Music Sunday: I’m still practicing my parts and looking forward to enjoying choral music during our joint gathering with the congregation of First UU Nashville. I am never so aware of breathing as when I sing. Wouldn’t it be something if breathing and singing together is part of the work of birthing another world–the world of which we dream: a world of belonging and transformations we have yet to imagine into being?

Yours in breathing and hoping,

Rev. Denise
RevDenise@gnuuc.org

P.S. Plans for this Sunday have changed since last week: Due to AC problems in their sanctuary, our friends from First UU Nashville will gather with us for Music Sunday at GNUUC! The service starts at 10 am.

Beloveds,

Do you ever feel prickly and bloomy all at the same time?

Sometimes, poetry (like this, shared at a recent meeting) helps: 

For When People Ask 
by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

I want a word that means  
okay and not okay,
a word that means
devastated and stunned with joy.  
I want the word that says
I feel it all, all at once.
The heart is not like a songbird  
singing only one note at a time,
more like a Tuvan throat singer
able to sing both a drone
and simultaneously
two or three harmonics high above it—
a sound, the Tuvans say,  
that gives the impression
of wind swirling among rocks.
The heart understands the swirl,
how the churning of opposite feelings
weaves through us like an insistent breeze,
leads us wordlessly deeper into ourselves,  
blesses us with paradox
so we might walk more openly
into this world so rife with devastation,
this world so ripe with joy.

Yours in okay, not okay, and the swirling of our hearts,

Rev. Denise

RevDenise@gnuuc.org

P.S. That’s the cactus growing beside our parking lot, at the bottom of the hill, yesterday. (There are a few more buds. I wonder what will happen by Sunday…)