 Well, I don't know what you're thinking about, but I didn't care at all. You know, my problem is that I didn't know it worked. I mean, I was like, hmm... It's not like it works. It's not like it works. You guys... I don't think it works. I think it works. I don't think it works. I don't think it works. Music And that is how we say good morning and welcome to another Sunday here at First Geneterran Society where independent thinkers, that would be us Gather in a safe, nurturing environment, that would be this space, to explore issues of social, spiritual, and ethical significance as we try to make a difference in this world. I'm Steve Goldberg, a proud, multi-talented member of this congregation, and I'd like to offer a very special welcome to any guests, visitors, or newcomers. If this is your first time at First Unitarian Society, I think you'll find that it's a special place. And we look forward to visiting with you during our fellowship hour right after the service. Meanwhile, speaking of the service, this would be a perfect time to silence those pesky electronic devices that you just will not need for the next hour, because for the next hour, we invite you to sit back and enjoy today's service. I'm sure it will touch your heart, stir your spirit, and trigger one or two new thoughts. We're really glad you're here, and I'd like you to join in a moment of centering silence so we can be fully present with each other this morning. That's enough silence, now, are you gathering him? May we rise in all the ways that we do and join together in hymn number 295, Sing Out Praises for the Journey. Remaining standing for our opening words and our chalice sliding, Marnie Harmony tells us, if we stay inside ourselves and do not venture out, then the fullness of the universe shall be unknown to us, and our locked hearts shall never feel the rush of worship. Will you join me now in our chalice sliding words printed in your order of services together? We spark the chalice saying, we light this chalice in honor of first steps for beginning, even when the path ahead is unclear. For the courage it takes to trust that the way will reveal itself. That light will come to clarify our vision. That friends will be by our side. Will you take a moment to greet that friend by your side and offer a friendly greeting? Hello, Sam, glad you're here today. Yes, you did with extra effort. Good morning. Glad that you're here. Good morning. Good morning. Glad you're here. Good morning, sir. Glad that you're here, Tom. Hello. Good morning. Glad to be here. I'd like to invite anyone who wants to come forward to share in our story today. Come on, come on. Good morning. Glad you're here. Anyone is welcome to come up who wants to join us. It's really good to see you on this clear and kind of chilly day. We are finishing up our theme for this month, which was journey. And, you know, journey is another word for the way that we travel through our days in our lives, and we do that all the time. We do it when we get up in the morning. We kind of journey from the very beginning out of bed into the bathroom and off for breakfast and going to school and running errands like to the store, sometimes with our friends or family, visiting people, going on vacation, so many ways that we journey and travel. And this is a story about one particular journey of a grandmother and grandson in San Francisco. Do you know this book? Yes, it's a great book. So it's called Last Stop on Market Street by Matt De La Pena. And the pictures are by Christian Robinson. And as we read it together, let's explore what happens on their journey and try to remember some of the things that are important. So CJ pushed through the church doors and skipped down the steps. The outside air smelled like freedom, but it also smelled like rain, which freckled CJ's shirt and dripped down his nose. He ducked under his Nana's umbrella saying, how come we gotta wait for the bus and all this wet? Trees get thirsty too, his Nana told him. Don't you see that big one drinking through a straw? CJ looked for a long time but didn't see any straw. Do you see a straw? No. No? I think some people saw a straw last service. They were very observant. From the bus, he watched the water pool on flower petals. He watched the rain patter against the windshield of a nearby car. His friend Colby climbed into the car and gave CJ a wave and drove off with his dad. Nana, how come we don't got a car? Boy, what do we need a car for? We've got a bus that breathes fire. And old Mr. Dennis, who always has a trick for you, the bus creaked to a stop in front of them. It sighed and sagged and the doors swung open. Yeah, why does the bus breathe fire? Well, it has a picture of a dragon on it. Yeah, indeed. What's that I see? Said Mr. Dennis and pulled a coin from behind CJ's ear and placed it in his palm. Nana laughed her deep laugh and pushed CJ along. They sat right up front. The man across the way was tuning a guitar. An old woman with curlers had butterflies in a jar. Nana gave everyone a great big smile and a good afternoon. And she made sure that CJ did the same. The bus lurched forward and stopped. Lurched forward and stopped. Nana hummed as she knit. How come we always got a go? Here after church, CJ said, Miguel and Colby never have to go nowhere. I feel sorry for those boys, she told him. They'll never get a chance to meet Bobo or the sunglassman. And I hear Trixie got herself a brand new hat. CJ stared out the window feeling sorry for himself. He watched the cars zip by on either side and watched a group of boys hop curbs on their bikes. A man climbed aboard with a spotted dog. CJ gave up his seat. How come that man can't see? Boy, what do you know about seeing, Nana asked him. Some people watch the world with their ears. That's a fact. Their noses too, the man said, sniffing at the air. That's a mighty fine perfume you're wearing today, ma'am. Nana squeezed the man's hand and laughed her deep laugh. Tube holder boys got on next. CJ watched as they moved on by and stood in back. Sure wish I had one of those. They have their earbuds in. Nana set down her knitting. What for? You've got the real live thing sitting across from you. Why don't you ask the man if he would play us a song? Well, CJ didn't even have to ask. The guitar player was already plucking strings and he began to sing. To feel the magic of music, the blind man whispered, I'd like to close my eyes. Nana closed hers too. So did CJ and the spotted dog. And in the darkness, the rhythms lifted CJ out of the bus and out of the busy city. He saw a sunset color swirling over crashing waves. He saw a family of hawks slicing through the sky. He saw the old woman's butterflies dancing free in the light of the moon. CJ's chest grew full and he was lost in the sound. And the sound gave him the feeling of magic. The song ended and CJ opened his eyes. Everyone on the bus clapped, even the boys and back. Nana glanced at the coin in CJ's palm. CJ dropped it in the man's hat. Last stop on Market Street, Mr. Dennis called. Exactly. CJ looked around as he stepped off the bus, crumbling sidewalks and broken down doors, graffiti tagged windows and boarded up stores. He reached for his Nana's hand. How come this place is always so dirty over here? She smiled and pointed to the sky. Sometimes when you're surrounded by dirt, CJ, you're better witness for what's beautiful. CJ saw a perfect rainbow arcing over their soup kitchen. He wondered how his Nana always found beautiful, where he never even thought to look. He looked all around them again and the bus rounded the corner out of sight. And the broken street lamps still lit up bright and the gray cat shadows moved across the walk. When he spotted their familiar faces in the window, he said, I'm glad we came. He thought that his Nana might laugh, her deep laugh, but she didn't. She patted him on the head and said, me too, CJ, now, come on. So where did their journey take them? Where did they end up at the end of it? Yeah. In the soup kitchen, yeah. So as you think about their journey, what are some of the things you remember that they either saw or people that they met? What sticks in your mind? They saw a rainbow. Yes. They saw the bus. Exactly. That breathed fire. What kind of people did they meet on the bus? The driver who had a magic trick for CJ? Yes. Who else on the bus? There was the blind man. Who else? There was, yeah. Yes, exactly. So singers, all sorts of people on the bus. And the story doesn't tell you why exactly they go to the soup kitchen. So I wonder, why do you think they go to the soup kitchen? What reason takes them there? They're volunteering there. They probably eat as well. You don't know. Maybe they also like to have lunch at the soup kitchen. Are there any other reasons that they might go to the soup kitchen? There's no right or wrong answer to it. It's what your imagination says. Well, for me, what I love about this story is much like what we try to do here. It kind of brings a sense of curiosity about the lives of the people on the bus, the lives of CJ and Nana, and just why they do what they do. Maybe there's a story behind exactly why they feel that it's so important to be with the people at the soup kitchen. And we get to discover that by using our imaginations. So I hope, as you spend time here with your friends and with all the people that help in the class, that this gives you a chance to think about your own life, your own journeys every day, and maybe to see them in new and interesting and wonderful ways. So we will sing you off to your class, which is its own journey and its own right. And we'll wish you an adventure there that you can come tell us about at the end of class. So may we stand in all the ways that we do and sing number 356 to sing you out, will you seek in far off places? Have fun. Thank you for sharing the story with me. Will you seek in far off places, surely aces? Two brief readings. You may be seated as we prepare for our reflection. The first is taken from a novel written by Claire North entitled The Sudden Appearance of Hope. She begins this section with some definitions. Pilgrimage, to journey to a sacred place. Pilgrim, a traveler or wanderer, a stranger in a foreign place. Hajj, the journey to Mecca, one of the five pillars of Islam. Pleasant, perhaps, to say that I am a pilgrim, but looking at it, swirling, counting the white swirl of folks devout, moving around the sacred stone in Mecca, watching the fans scream at the movie premiere. Listening to old men sitting on their benches by the sea who report that everything changes and that's OK. Forgive me, but who isn't a pilgrim anyway? Second reading taken from the writing of theologian Richard R. Niebuhr. He wrote, pilgrims are persons in motion, passing through territories not their own. Something we might call completion they are seeking, or perhaps the word clarity will do as well. A goal to which only the spirit's compass points the way. Here ends the readings. As we move into our time of reflection, it is our pleasure and our deep blessing this weekend to have members of the Odyssey Project joining us for worship and sharing some of their life-changing work. And we will have more Odyssey Project folk join us next weekend as well. Beginning with sharing her poem, we are pleased to welcome Kena Atkinson. Welcome, Kena. Thank you. My poem is called Journey to the Journey. I am a woman in motion, always on the go, picking up new hats to stack on top of my wild and curly throat. I have lived so many lives in my life. And as I grow, I better my best. Shover to my teenager, snack goddess to my tot, two thumbs that can develop an entire company from a thought. From journey to journey, start to start. I've walked my path to where I am standing with a lifetime of experiences carried in my heart. I was a little black girl who sobbed after school every day because my skin wasn't fair enough for my peers to find me fit to play. I began to hate myself, my hair, and my skin. My little black girl light started to dim. I wished my skin wasn't brown with all my might. I even asked God when I was nine to just make me white. I begged. I pleaded. I didn't want to exist if being black and a girl meant hurting like this. Even though it was dim, I carried my light. A tiny bit shined on my path, and I walked it, despite being physically abused, mentally misused, a teen mother confused, a foster kid refused. Single parents suddenly, I replied to UW Odyssey reluctantly. Homeless and depressed, my entire life was a mess. Yet still one day, I took that tiny, huge step and applied to the program in 2009. Little did I know my Odyssey would feed my brain. When I asked God to make me stronger and take away my pain, I didn't know that I'd have to fight harder and have so much to gain. I didn't know that I'd have to confront the things that kept me locked in my own cave. I didn't know what I didn't know. I didn't even know me, but I was slowly budding. I was becoming free. I didn't know how small steps become leaps, and how leaps become bounds. I didn't know about art history or word compounds. I didn't know that my Wednesday night Odyssey would introduce me to me. I didn't know that five years later, I'd have a small business, a baby, and a bachelor's degree. I didn't know that in 10 years I would go from being homeless, to providing housing, from carrying my dim little light, to shining bright, walking a path, getting lost, and even flooded, to creating a path of my own in my city, where the prison at the end of the pipe is fully funded. Furation in words and language, how beautiful it is the way that education sets you free. How representation means that you can see you inside of me. How empowering me to empower myself means empowering groups to find power in themselves. How having real support and a ton of will can move someone forward to pursue their purpose instead of a dollar bill. Journeying forward, pressing on, learning to love my beautiful black self and handle business and be a mom. Teach yoga, serve my community, and dance all day long. I've learned to grow what serves my purpose and let the rest go. Because in order for this journey to start, I had to learn a complete sentence, the word no. No, I won't be broken. No, I won't defer my dreams. No, it won't be easy. No, I won't let fear drive me. No, I won't wait to start living. No, I won't shrink. No, I won't neglect my own health. And I won't apologize for being me. No, I won't stop putting in the work daily to be a better me. No, I won't stop this journey. This is my odyssey. Thank you. Our closing hymn is, thank you for taking us to church, Kena. I'll try to do something with that. But it is important because of that kind of sharing, actually, for us to think about what we mean when we talk about words like odyssey, or journey, soulful journey, or even the more exotic word of pilgrimage. Why it is important for a Unitarian Universalist to explore these ideas that are a part of every major religious tradition. Things like the Bodhgaya for the Buddhists, where they journey to Bihar, India, where the Buddha is thought to have gained his enlightenment, or the way of St. James in Galicia, Spain, the Camino de Santiago, where people actually of all faiths will journey along together, discovering powerful lessons about the spirit and life itself. Or in the Islamic tradition, the Hajj, where one of the five pillars of Islam invites every Muslim adult who is able to undertake the journey to Mecca, who is physically and financially able to do so. Throughout time and many traditions and places, there has been this idea of pilgrimage and journey that is sacred and life changing. And it is important for us to think a little bit about how we intersect with its power. The classic ideas of journey and search of something religious, or spiritual, or morally significant, to a shrine, or a birthplace of an important person, or a location where lives were changed. In our own tradition, we pilgrimage all the time when we want to discover more about unitarian universalism's history here in the United States. We travel to Boston to see some of our early roots. When we want to know about a time in our living history, when many of us were called by our deepening relationship with African-Americans in our communities to make a difference and take a visible stand, we travel to Selma, as our forebears did, in huge numbers to be part of that powerful experience and to remind ourselves a little bit more of who we are now. Many people, every year in unitarian universalist congregations, travel to Europe to be with their partner church sisters and brothers as they gather in various congregations in Transylvania. Again, connecting more deeply with an older and larger story of what it means to be us. Is it not possible that in so many ways we are called to journey into a deeper understanding of what our lives, what the larger life is about? In the way that we encounter everyday journeys, in the way that we understand the large journey of our lives, in the way that we are called sometimes to make special intentional journeys to places that may speak to us deeply. It is worthy of us to think a little bit about how all of our life might be understood as a meaningful, life-changing pilgrimage. Something that invites us to be present to the sacred. So using that word sacred in such a diverse gathering of thinkers, let me begin by being clear about what I mean today by sacred. And I borrow from the words of Patrick O'Neill, one of our clergy. And he writes, there is something innate to human nature, something basic to our civilized sensibility that recognizes certain distinctions of worth in reality. And the name we have traditionally given to this highest of these is the holy or the sacred. I am suggesting that there is a part of human experience that evokes an attitude of reverence, awe, and ultimate respect, a category of transcendence. He continues, my concept of the sacred these days is about a simple recognition of the relatedness of all life and our place within the web of existence. For me, he concludes, the sacred is that which binds us all living things together and to the earth itself, which is our home. What if that invitation to that binding and connection to all that is, all living things, all that is on this planet and our sense of home, what if that is every day an invitation to see our lives as a sacred pilgrimage? What if every day in some way, we may be startled out of what we think of as ordinary and see in it the extraordinary and the powerful and be changed by it? Robin Dronath Tagore wrote in his poem, I traveled an old road every day. One morning, suddenly there was a tremor in the air and the sky seemed to kiss me on my forehead. And my mind started up like a morning out of mist. And my every day wisdom was ashamed. It was the best luck of my life that I lost my path that morning and I found my eternal childhood. Is there a way in how we see our lives that we can be reawakened to that beginner's mind again and again? To see in the way that living our life fully pulls us into a place of deep fatigue like any long journey. That we experience relaxation and satisfaction when we feel in some way that we have arrived. How everything can bring us to a curiosity of an explorer. How enthusiasm mixed with bittersweet may find us any time we say goodbye. How everything invites us to commitment and work in our lives. How each day may be a journey into some deep desire for that which is stable and lasting, for that which is full in our lives. For some sense of peace that calls us to a deeper place within and around us. I think in order to more often connect with that possibility, we need the lessons of the pilgrims all over the world in all times and places that have some powerful common threads to how they lived their lives. They may help us know a little more about what it means to see our lives as pilgrimage. They understood that the very journey, each and every component of it, is an invitation to sacred importance. They saw in all that happened at least the glimmer of the sacred. They felt themselves again and again to be open to being changed by the journey, to being moved by the things that they encountered to let that journey, whether it was on the way to the market or Mecca, to be their teacher. Wendell Berry wrote, the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous, humbling, and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground of our own feet and learn it to be our home. Whether it is in intentional journeys of pilgrimage or our daily journeys through life or how we choose to look at the larger journey of our existence, or even the way that this community journeys together day into week into months through change, all of those things invite us to embody the pilgrim spirit, especially when we bring an intention to see the sacred in the journey, especially when we let it invite us to be changed, transformed, taught, often when we least expect it. And most of all, they remind us that we need every component of that journey to really glean the sacred. We need the joy and the companionship, but hard as it is, we need the pain as well. And we need the moments of anxiety and grief, as well as the moments of deep satisfaction to know what is really true and full about life. How often it is like we are a voyager in a very small boat. And we have just made our way into the middle of this vast lake of life, just far enough so that when we look behind us, we no longer see the shore that we departed from. But we are not yet far enough onto that lake to see anything about what's on the other side. And in those moments in our life where the past is too far behind us and we begin to realize it will never come back. And the new reality is not there yet. Even the slightest little chop in the water on our boat can make us exceedingly anxious. And that is a hard place for all of us to be. But if we can learn practices that help us calm our minds and our spirits, help us to be really present, in those moments there is powerful lessons. There is great freedom. There is the essence of life. The snow was dancing airily as she got into her car and began to drive away from the retreat center. While it had not been exactly the meditation retreat that she had hoped for, at least she was feeling more relaxed than when she began the retreat and was ready to begin her drive of several hours home. She realized that she carried much intense expectation with her as she had come to the retreat. And it was because so much in her life, her job, her personal life, even her practice itself, her meditation was feeling challenging. And so as she got in her car and the snow was dancing lightly, she began to think about how absurd it was to place so much expectation on a journey where it was her first time at that retreat center. The first time with those facilitators, so much was happening in her life to have just made it through the weekend and to be able to sit quietly alone with it all. That was accomplishment enough. And so as she journeyed out from that place that she had only been to one time to get to it that particular trip, she realized that what was once a few moments ago, light and airy snow had now turned into rather hard and swiftly sticking snow that was covering the road ahead of her. The road that she really didn't know well at all. And her dashboard was telling her a couple of things. One, that the outside temperature was conducive to icy road conditions. And two, that already her tires were working extra hard to get traction on the road. And truth be told, even in the best of circumstances, she didn't like driving. And some of her most outrageous panic attacks had happened just in daily traffic, much less in times where she was alone. And on a road she barely knew and began more and more to worry if she would even stay on that road long if the road conditions worsened. And she felt in herself that beginning feeling of a panic attack, starting to bubble up inside of her and she quickly and desperately searched for something inside of her, that would let her focus on the road ahead of her and find a place of peace. And she realized that all through the retreat, the songwriter part of her had been noodling through these little bits and pieces of melody. And that as she sat there in her car, she began to take those bits and pieces of melody and stitched them together into a more cohesive tune. And as she was doing that in her mind and humming it, she found that the words of the loving kindness meditation that they had explored a little bit ago began to weave themselves into that tune in ways that just felt right. And so she found herself without even really thinking, singing. May I be at peace and he's and no the joy of my true nature. No, the joy of my true nature. And as she found herself singing that phrase, she just naturally, as the loving kindness meditation invites, found herself thinking about the other travelers who had just been with her at the retreat. They also were somewhere on their road home driving in that same weather. She found herself thinking about the people that she loved near and far she hoped safely in their homes. And as she sang the next phrase, she found herself wishing the goodness of that phrase to find each of them and give them peace. May I be at one and well within a sea of loving kindness in a sea of loving kindness. And she found by putting her breath into song and word into blessing that her body naturally began to relax and her breathing began to slow and her grip tightened into a loving embrace of the steering wheel. And instead of one of desperation, as she found herself blessing the road in front of her and the snow that fell in front of her and that her little fiat was still on the road, all of it felt like such a blessing. And it poured out into the world, may all be free from suffering, may all be safe from harm, may we all be sheltered in deep compassion. She was amazed that as she drove away from the retreat, the real power of her learning began. As she was driving in that space that transformed from anxiety, she realized how much of her issues in life stemmed from how afraid she was that she was not enough, that she did not have the power to encounter her life fully and how everything she needed was right there in that space. How in that moment, by being present to her journey, the sacred was present to her and the holy filled her up and it was all enough. Elizabeth Gilbert reminds us that she has come to believe that there exists in the universe something that she calls the physics of the quest and she believes that it goes something like this. If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting and it can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments and you set out on a truth seeking journey either externally or internally and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue and if you accept that everyone you meet along the way may be a teacher and if you are prepared most of all to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself then truth will not be withheld from you or so I've come to believe. Amen and blessed be. As we move into the time of our offering and prepare ourselves for that important time I'd like to invite Shar Braxton to join me up here for another sharing from the Odyssey Project. Keeping in mind as Shar shares that they are the recipient of our 50-50 offering and that we will share with them so that they might continue this work of helping people who might otherwise not have that encounter to have a life changing encounter with the humanities and let that powerful sense of creativity inform and change their lives. Shar, will you share a bit of what it has brought to you? Thank you for having us here and supporting Odyssey. It does make a difference in the lives of the participants, the education and the different moments that they have in their lives. My poem is called Crossing the Ocean. My guidance counselor said, you're not college material. You're not college material. At college material. Those words bounced off the walls in ceiling before each word shot straight at my heart and ripped it open. Dreams shredded into thin sheets of paper. The white kids rejoice seen Harvard, Georgetown, U.W. Madison. Darkness, non void, did not matter. Years of self-doubt and rock bottom pain. Please, please help me to live again. A colorful arch of enrichment appears. Storm is over. The storm is over. The storm is over. The storm is over. The storm is over. The storm is over. And the blue sky is clear. Odyssey created a passion in me. Learn, read, write, be strong. Humanities, English, James Baldwin, I am transformed. Climbing, reaching and making positive choices I am taking Chinese college courses. Encouragement, faith and laughter are my friends. One day I will travel to China and teach in Beijing. Dear Mr. Guidance Counselor, I invite you to come with me. Set sail, release anger, the fortunes of forgiveness. Let's journey together. Thank you. Thank you, Shar. As we receive our offering, may we find that spirit of creativity and generosity as we now share together in the offering. So thank you for your generosity and support of the UW Odyssey Project. I know a few things about that program and I can tell you if you haven't already gathered from the remarks you heard and the poetry you heard, they do make quite a difference. And speaking of people who make a difference, I'd like to acknowledge our volunteers who have made sure that today's service has run smoothly, beginning with special thanks to Mark Schultz for running the sound system, John McGevna for serving as our lay minister, Artis Kaufman for serving as our greeter upstairs and our ushers today, Pamela McMullen, Mark Hill and Tom Dommage. And all is right with the world because in the kitchen taking care of the coffee is none other than Jean Hills. Sometimes I think Hills Brothers was named after her in honor of her connection to coffee. Tim Phillips generously donated the flowers that you see behind me in honor of Gabrielle Rochester and our information table is hosted by Karen Rose Gredler. So these are some examples of what stewardship looks like but stewardship also looks like the campaign we've been running over the last month to generate the resources for First Unitarian Society. Campaign's going very well. We're noticing that not only are we experiencing a lot of pledges from a lot of people but that includes a lot of new pledgers who haven't pledged in the past or who have recently joined and decided to pledge so that's great. And these are pledges that are large and small and every size is welcome, every size is perfect for this campaign. A lot of pledgers are committing to multi-year gifts which makes them sustaining stewards and others are increasing their amounts from previous years which makes them very welcomed indeed. The campaign and the stewardship that everybody is demonstrating is making a lot of things possible and because of you and your stewardship, we are able to fund our religious education and youth programming and we saw a great example of that this morning in the Message for All Ages. I had a front row seat so I could see how engaged those kids were in the story and they couldn't wait to offer their opinion and share their experience and their ideas relating to the story. And as a result of your stewardship, these kids are gonna grow up feeling valued here and that's pretty important. And because of you, we are able to offer a full spectrum of family experiences and family programming so that families can thrive here. And because of you, we are able to fund and provide resources for programming that helps people feel that this is a spiritual home regardless of their age or their generation. And because of you, we are able to increase our capacity to host meaningful community events in this welcoming space, thus deepening our connection to the larger community and generating a revenue stream that will support some of the operating costs of this organization. And because of you, we have a louder voice in social and environmental justice and connections to programs such as the UW Odyssey Project. And speaking of a louder voice, because of you, we are able to leverage our world-class music program as an additional community outreach tool. Not too many faith communities can say that, but we can because of you. And because of you, we're gonna have a celebration by that very name because of you. On Friday evening, this week, from six until eight o'clock, right here for the whole family, we will be celebrating our stewardship campaign and the results of stewardship, whether it's volunteer efforts, in-kind support or financial support, all of those who have participated in that kind of stewardship are welcome to attend. Please RSVP and you'll find the details on reserving your spot in today's issue of the Red Floor's Bulletin that you have. Please RSVP so that we know how much food to provide. And speaking of food, as you know, we're not just celebrating April 5, we're celebrating our stewardship every week by providing a $25 gift card for food fight restaurants to somebody who's been participated in our stewardship effort. And the winner today is, the winners are Richard and Lynn Scobie. So thank you very much. I'll get it to you. I'll get it to you, no problem. And that's what stewardship looks like. Somebody else who has an idea about what stewardship looks like is a longtime member and leader of First Unitarian Society. And we've asked Dorit Bergen, if she would say a few words about her decision to continue being a steward of FUS. Dorit. Good morning. Years ago, I was looking for a chance to sing. I heard from friends about a choir that was accepting new members. So on a Thursday in the fall of 1976, I walked into the landmark. And I stayed for 43 years because I found a home. I found a community that invited me to think about the deep questions of life that offered me opportunities to act on my social justice beliefs that supported me as I walked with my parents through their last years and that cared for me when I became ill. I am a sustaining steward so that I can help take care of my home. I want it to be here in the future for me, for you, and for our children. Thank you Dorit. Thanks to all of you for being such great stewards of FUS, FUS, excuse me. And if you have questions about your pledge and any details you'd like to learn more about, you can see Florence and or Cheryl, they're at the back of the room. They'll be staffing the stewardship table and ready to answer any questions you might have about the stewardship campaign. I look forward to seeing all of you Friday evening right here, six o'clock for our stewardship celebration. Thanks a lot. Thank you Steve. Couple of things very quickly. After the service, a couple of opportunities. One, our pre-K chalice children's group will be culminating their teddy bear month with a teddy bear parade. It will come parading through in a few minutes during fellowship after the service. They'll entertain you with musical instruments, their levies, their teddy bears or other adorable things and their glowing faces. So I hope you will give them your appreciation and attention in a few minutes when they march through in the midst of us. And also right here, just in a few minutes, a couple of members of the board will be available for about 20 minutes of conversation to explore the interim process and answer any questions that have come up for you about that process. So that is just in here for about 20 minutes with a couple of board members and other upcoming Sundays will offer that opportunity as well. As we move into our closing hymn, Blue Boat Home, it is a good opportunity for us to think about the ways that we share the joys and the difficulties of life together. So as we rise as we are able and sing together, may this song call us into that deeper and richer community together. Blue Boat Home. I can say I've been sailing all my life now. Never harbor or port have I known. The wide universe is the ocean I travel and the earth is my blue boat home. Sun my sail and moon my rudder as I ply the starry sea leaning over the edge in wonder casting questions into the deep drifting here with my ship's companions all week hindered pilgrim souls making our way by the lights of the heavens in the beautiful blue boat home. I give thanks to the waves upholding me hail the great winds urging me on greet the infinite sea before me sing the sky my sailor song I was born of fathoms never harbor or port have I known the wide universe is the ocean I travel and the earth is my blue boat home. And now as we prepare to go forth from this place and we travel however we do may we always return to the big questions the deep sense of our connection to the comrades that make their way with us and made it again and again lead us home. We extinguish this light but not the light of that deep and wise and old wisdom the fire of our commitment to all that matters in our lives or the warmth of human companionship and connection these will remain in your life until you gather in this place again. Before we move forward into our day may we take our seat and enjoy one more gift of music together in worship.