 Thank you. Good morning. Welcome to our annual water communion service. As we have done every summer today we join together and gather the waters of the world as we join together in community renewing our spirits and our commitment to one another and the waters of this glorious planet. This has not been a typical week in which to hold a water communion. Perhaps many of you would like to think about anything other than water today. Perhaps you have seen too much water. Perhaps you know all too well the devastation that water can bring. Maybe you are holding in your hearts all those in the West who are dealing with the devastation of fires. Those who are praying for rain and water. Maybe you are thinking of all those in the path of Hurricane Lane in Hawaii and praying for their safety. Whatever is on your heart today we hold it with you. We gather holding the power of water in our minds and our care for one another in our hearts. Due to the recent devastation in our own community we are going to be participating in water communion in a different way this year. In a few moments we will call you forward to place your water into one of these vessels. First we will have the chance to share water that reminds us that while some have abundance others struggle in scarcity. Second we will share water that symbolizes travel and movement and change. Third we will share water that reminds us of life storms our concerns worries frustrations and losses. And finally we will share water that brings us hope and reminds us of the wellsprings of our lives. So during our prelude and meditation this morning think about the water you brought or the water you would have brought and think if this water is symbolic of the scarcity in our world if it is about change or growth or adventure. If it represents a storm or a worry in your own life or if it is water that brings you hope. You'll have the opportunity when you come forward to let us know where the water is from and a brief word about its meaning. Please don't worry about which time for sharing is the right time. The great thing about symbols is that they are always open to many interpretations. For as long as humans can remember water has been a symbol of the cleansing power of forgiveness and the faithful promise of healing love. May our service today bring healing to wounded hearts and bring us together in community once again. Welcome to the first Unitarian Society of Madison. This is a community where curious seekers gather together to explore spiritual, ethical and social issues in an accepting and nurturing environment. Unitarian Universalism supports the freedom of conscience of each individual as together we seek to be a force for good in the world. I'm Maureen Friend and on behalf of the congregation I'd like to extend a special welcome to visitors. We are a welcoming congregation so wherever you are and whoever you are on your life's journey we celebrate your presence among us. So we have a little change to that in gathering him just to note that we're only going to sing the first verse. Come together as rivers seep the sea bringing with us the waters of the earth. We begin as tiny springs and far off places gathering strength as we plunge down the rough ravines and flow through the peaceful valleys. Always there are other living streams that join us, flow through us sharing their strength then ultimately all of us flow into the great ocean of being. We are like the waters of the earth. We seek the peacefulness of a still glimmering lake. We search for the strength of the raging river. We long for the freshness of the mountain spring. And so from the springs and streams, lakes, and oceans we commingle these waters in a cup of beauty. We pour out the moments of our lives into a container that gives them shape and substance. Knowing we are a part of the great ocean of being we treasure these fragile droplets that belong to us. And here now we give thanks for the cup of beauty that is ours to create, ours to behold, ours to enjoy. And if you will join together now in the words of Chalice Leading. And so we gather from the ebb and flow of our lives thirsty for connection to ourselves, thirsty for connection to others, thirsty for connection to the larger life. As we like this, Chalice, may all who gather here be filled, filled with joy and hope, filled with compassion and love. Here may we be filled so that we may pour ourselves out into the world. And if you will take a moment now to turn and greet those around you, please be seated. Somewhere right now, someone is drinking water, scooped from the river, drawn from a well, caught as it drips from the roof, from pumps, from the tap, a cool drink of water stored in the shade in cool clay pots, chilled in a pitcher of ice, in buckets, brass pots, plastic jugs, caravan cans, a cool drink of water, squeezed from a bottle, a burlap bag, sipped from a thin tin cup, shared in a family, shared with a friend, a cool drink of water. Everyone, everywhere, a nice, cool drink of water. Today we bring our waters, which have touched the west, north, south and the east, which come from the sky, the surface of the earth and from deep wells and springs within the earth. We bring water that belonged to lakes, streams, and reservoirs of fresh waters that quench our thirst. We bring water that is a part of the great oceans and the seas that circle the globe, teeming with life the source of all life. We're going to begin this morning. Our first container, these containers empty of water. Remind us of all who lack access to safe and affordable and clean water. So we dedicate this first water to begin our water communion with this symbol of our solidarity with all those around the world who are calling for the human right to water. If you would like to share water representing an awareness of scarcity in our community or our lives, please come forward and pour your water into one of these common bowls. If you like, you can share a word or two about your water with Doug or Karin, and they will use their microphones to share your words with us all. If you didn't bring any water with you today, we invite you to pour some from the pitcher into the bowl, and you are always welcome to share silently. You do not need to speak to share. From Lake Everett in Northern Wisconsin, from Lake Champlain in Vermont, Lake Manona, from Lake Steppe in Germany, from the Atlantic Ocean, from for those who cannot get water from our new home in Madison. Now I invite you to share water that reminds you of the changes and the transformations in your lives, your journeys, whether spiritual or physical. From James Reeve Unitarian Universalist Congregation, Friends' Wedding in Casablanca, from the No Wood Conservancy in our neighborhood, from Lake Superior, from General Assembly in Kansas City, in celebration of my 50th birthday, from my greenhouse, from the Erie Canal, camping on Lake Superior with FUS Friends, from Granite Park and Glacier Park in honor of the transition of new ministers. Amen. Now it is time to share water symbolizing the storms in our lives, the concerns, the sorrows, confusion, frustrations. Allow these vessels to be ones of healing as they absorb your storm. Again, you're welcome to say a word or two about the significance of your water or pour it in with saying nothing at all. From our sump in our basement for the passing of a brother this past week. Smoky Seattle to flooded Madison. And finally, waters that remind you of the wellsprings of your lives, the water that sustains you when you are feeling empty, the joy that gives you hope and lifts you up. For this community, our family cottage. From the overfilled pond at Oakwood West. From Wisconsin, our trip with four other families, our annual trip. For a family and an apple orchard. From Lake Superior. For a visit with a 91 year old uncle. I like swimming. And on that perfect ending. Bless this water, we are many. Bless this water, we are one. Spirit of life and love ever flowing throughout our community and the world. Shape us, move us, guide us to find the courage and the wisdom to create a better way. Bless our hearts with love's welcoming embrace. Bless our minds with openness and curiosity. May compassion flow through us like water and find a love within resounding strong. May our gathering together this morning be a blessing for one and all. May it inspire us to a year of hope and love and courageous faith. And may we walk that year in full awareness as often as possible of the blessed ties that bind us each to all. Bless this water, we are many. Bless this water, we are one. This morning at this time was to invite us together to use movement to create the sounds of rain. Then we thought and realized that perhaps bringing in more rain may not be what you need most this morning. So instead we will invite you to a time now together in silence. In community. In prayer. So will you join me now in this time of quiet and meditation spirit of life and love. We gather today under a cloudy skies. Aking from the onslaught of the daily news. Our spirits weary and sore. Our nerves jangling and on edge. Our thoughts this morning are with all those who are grieving and filled with anxiety, confusion or pain. Our hearts are with every person who is experiencing loss. Our minds with the unfolding effects of climate change and the path ahead of us. We pause here. To center ourselves once again. To transform our tension into tranquil readiness. Our fear into loving purpose. May we find in this time a moment of calm amidst the cloudy skies. May we find in this sanctuary. The space to let down our guard and breathe together. May we find in this community. Reminders that we are enough. And we are not alone for a moment. I in bright invite you to breath in this quiet moment. To take in the serenity of being together and breathe out more love into this room. So come for a moment, sit in silence and settle into the peace of this time together. May we spend a moment in shared silence now for all that is our life. We hope and pray. Blessed be and amen. I invite you to rise in all the ways that you do and join together in singing number 1007. There's a river flowing in my soul. Please be seated. Our story today is based on the life of Georgie Badiel who grew up in a small town in Burkina Fasa. And these are her words. I am Princess Gigi. My kingdom, the African sky, so wide and so close. I can almost touch the sharp edges of the stars. I can tame the wild dogs with my song. I can make the tall grass sway when I dance. I can make the wind play hide and seek. But I cannot make the water come closer. I cannot make the water run clearer no matter what I command. It is early morning, still dark. My mother wakes me. Gigi, she says, my princess, it is time to get up. We must collect the water. Water, come, I demand. Do not make me wake before even the sun is out of bed. Come, please, I say. But the water won't listen. And I know we will have to walk so far to the well. I am too sleepy to put on my crown. I think of the pot that will hold on my braids instead. The thirst comes quick. Dry lips, dry throat. I squeeze my eyes shut so I can see it. Clear. I dip my toes in it. Cool. I scoop it up and bring it to my lips. Slowly I open my eyes. Nothing. I kick the dust. I grab my empty pot and place it upon my head. My mother does the same and our journey begins full of song. My mama adds her melody. Our steps are light. We twirl and laugh together. The miles give us room to dance. Halfway there we stop for a moment at the giant tree. Long enough to grab a handful of sweet shea nuts for energy. We can keep the dance going just a little longer. Maman, are we there yet? Finally, I hear the water running from the well, the giggles of my friends, the chatter of the women. Some have traveled farther than I, only to return home when the sun has gone to bed. Maman holds our place while I play with my friends and the dance continues. The water is flowing. Pots filling with the dusty earth-colored liquid. Gigi, come. It is my turn now. Our dance home slows to careful steps. My thirst is so heavy like the full pot I carry. Our song is softer now. Our shoulders ache. Our feet cramp. I see home at last. Maman boils enough water for drinking and we wait. We wash our clothes. We prepare food for cooking. My father comes quickly from the fields to share in the drink and the meal. He scoops me up. My princess, you have done it. You have returned with water. Drink, Maman says. Finally, every sip fills me with energy. I want to make it last, but I can't. I gulp it down. Clothes and body clean. I sing to the dogs. I dance with the tall grass. I hide from the wind. Maman brings one last cup she has saved for me. Drink, my princess. Sleep. Tomorrow we journey again. Maman, I say as I close my eyes. Why is the water so far? Why is the water not clear? Where is our water? Sleep, she says. Dream, she says. Someday you will find a way. Someday. I am princess Gigi. My kingdom, the African sky, the dusty earth, and someday the flowing, cool, crystal clear water. Someday. So this story from Georgie Badielle. These images are of the people who live in this land. With the help of the Georgie Badielle Foundation, they were able to put a well into a primary school, which allows the children to spend time in school instead of gathering water and allows them to bring water home to their families in the evening. Today we are launching our partnership with a program to do exactly this in the Gaza Strip. The Maya Project is working to fund a water treatment system that will provide two schools, 3,250 students with clean drinking water in Rafa. So our offering today is dedicated in its entirety to the Maya Project. You can find out more about the project and our partnership in it with Congregation Shireisha Mayim, Madison Rafa sister city program and Jewish Voices for Peace at their table in the commons after our service today. And we thank you for your generosity. Thanks to Linda for the beautiful, watery music this morning. So today is indeed a day of mixed blessings. We have one more to recognize today. Gene Sears, our coordinator of membership engagement for the past nine years is retiring this week. And we wanted to pause to thank her to celebrate her time among us to recognize how much we are going to miss her. If you have walked into our doors on a Saturday afternoon or a Sunday morning, you have most likely seen Gene waiting at the door or the bottom of the steps to greet you. With her warm smile and engaging presence, Gene has been a living embodiment of radical hospitality. It has been her personal mission to greet each person, to talk with those who needed more information or who needed a listening ear, to make sure that everyone knew without a doubt that they are truly welcome here. Gene has made sure that we have had coffee and tea for our services, has coordinated our new UU sessions, has sent hundreds of visitor letters, has done innumerable things around here that we don't even know. There is going to be a very large Gene-shaped hole. Gene, if you'll come on up. I should have had somebody else do this part. So Gene, we thank you for the gifts that you have brought to us. You have touched many lives, opened many hearts, held our community up and held us together in so many ways. We have gifts for Gene, a small token of our thanks. And we ask you to help us to thank Gene in two ways. There's a gratitude book for Gene in the Commons right outside these doors. Please take a moment to write a note to Gene letting her know your thanks, the impact that she has had on your place in our community. And then second, please stick around after the service to enjoy some special refreshments, spend a few moments with Gene thanking her for her many years of service here. And there is, don't worry, there is one of the famous FUS Stone chalices in here. We weren't getting away without one of these. She's taking us with her. So Gene knew that she wouldn't be able to say anything this morning. She is wise in so many ways. So she invited two special friends of hers to speak for her instead. Come to leave this place. But before we go, we would like to invite you to come forward to take some of our mingled waters home with you. Take these waters with you with the recognition that our planet flows like a soft blue sapphire in the darkness of space because of water. Take these waters knowing that they are made of our loves and dreams, adventures and sorrows, hopes for a better future and prayers for today. Also remember that due to the polluted state of our water, we must advise not drinking this water or mingling it with any of our lakes, rivers or streams. Use it as water for a favorite plant or in the garden. Mingle it with watercolor to create a beautiful image. Save it in a jar where you can see it and be reminded of these people and this place. We have containers for you up here. If you did not bring one with you today, please come forward now as we join together in our closing hymn, number 1064, Blue Boat Home. Parts with a drop, a trickle, a burble, a rush of water bubbling towards its destination and finally the wide endless sea. All rivers run to the sea. Today you brought water, poured it into a common bowl. Through our experience, each of ours has differed. These waters mingle, signifying our common humanity. Today you came and shared within this sacred community. May you depart this sacred space, hearts filled with hope for new beginnings, a fresh start. Go forth, but return to this community where rivers of tears may be shed, where dry souls are watered, where your joy bubbles, where your life cup overflows, where deep in your spirit you have found in this place a home for all rivers run to the sea. We invite you to be seated for the postlude.