Sermon 9/14/25
A rose cannot thrive without water. It may bloom for a time in dry soil, reaching upward with all its strength, its petals unfolding in soft defiance of the drought. But without nourishment, the petals begin to curl inward, and the life at its center begins to fade. Something essential starts to pull back, as if the rose itself knows it cannot keep giving without first receiving. That slow withdrawal formed a question I carried with me for years: what does it mean not only to be welcomed, but to truly belong? What does it mean to receive the kind of nourishment that allows a soul to stay open? To understand the shape that question took in my life, I have to go back a little. Well, maybe more than a little, although perhaps not all the way to my own child dedication, but close. I was raised Unitarian Universalist at West Hills UU Fellowship near Portland. I was deeply rooted in congregational life from a very young age. I loved being the one to light the chalice on Sunday morning...
