A Blessing for the Neighborhood That Holds Us in Love

 
God, you placed us here—on this block,
on this patch of shared earth,
among these alleys and sidewalks,
among many who are lights in this world.
 
You’ve called us not just to love,
but to live among love—
as we wave to the person walking by,
linger on the front porch over a cup of tea,  
and admit we don’t have it all together—again.
 
But something sacred happens in the rhythm of neighborliness.
I am reminded I do not carry this alone.
I think of how roots intertwine underground,
how trees growing side-by-side
brace one another against storm winds,
how strength is in numbers.  
 
This community—
these ones who have walked beside us for many years,
who share a cup of sugar,
who buy the lemonade at the stand from the kid on the block,
who remember our kids’ birthdays and important events,
who stay up late to worry with us and to pray for miracles,
who risk vulnerability,
who ask how we’re really doing—
they are the structure beneath our fragile days.
 
So, God, when I forget what a gift it is
to live right here,
right now,
remind me:
The ordinary and extraordinary
love of this street
is an embarrassment of riches
and is pure grace.
 
Blessed is this neighborhood,
this patchwork of kindness,
this underground web of roots—
quietly, steadily connecting us.
 
We grow stronger not apart,
but together here in this messy life together.
Held in God’s mercy and love here in this time and space,
we are nourished, supported, held—
not despite our need,
but because of it.
And so together,
we are more deeply rooted in love.
Amen.