Father God, I pray, hope and trust that those that call you God and also those that do not will hear you say their name.

I pray that all will hear you in the wind, both in the gales that seem endless and in the gentle breeze that alights the face with the most delicate aroma perhaps of nostalgia, something we cannot name but sense and feel in our hearts.

I hope that we all can hear our names when we are kissed by the sun. The promise and joy of sunlight speaking our names, maybe our name is hope, peace, patience or love. Perhaps our name is simply, I am. Maybe it is all of these things or none of these things.

I trust that you weave the threads of our lives so intricately that we often cannot name what name you whisper to us but there is a stirring, a remembering, maybe it sounds like “you are mine?”

Maybe you hear and see nothing but a void, a hollowness that feels like a heavy weight of all that is unknown. Perhaps it sounds like sorrow or regret. Darkness. BUT when we turn our faces to YOU there is the remembering, a presence, a vastness, a sense of being held by the unseen.

We thank you Lord and are in awe of your ways that we can not name. We thank you for calling us in the language of the rain, the whisper of the wind, the lap of the shore, the rays of the sunshine and so many other nuanced ways. You call us yours; you call us by names that are not our given name. This is enough, our ears and eyes have been opened by your creation and we breath a bit deeper, perhaps a sigh of contentment, you have called us.