We don’t pray for a lack of conflict only, but an abundance of well-being.

We won’t settle for tolerance, and we will do the hard work to love our neighbors, strangers, and life forms beyond our knowledge.

We won’t stop at the folding-our-hands praying: we will move on to the roll-up-our-sleeves praying.

We will remember that our lives are connected to every other life on this planet – and maybe beyond.

We will live out the truth that nothing can separate us (and everyone else) from the love of God; we are beloved and unique, and our value is not measured against the lives of others.

We will pray for peace throughout the world, and we will choose to be a peaceful presence in our own small part of it.

We will, with the help of God and neighbor, live in peace.

The saying is that love is blind, and there’s some truth to that. Love blinds us to imperfections and red flags, and allows us to dismiss warning signs we would be wise to heed. But it’s nothing in comparison to the blindness that comes from lack of love. What we do not love, we do not cherish. What we do not cherish, we are willing to neglect or use for our own purposes.

It is with the heart’s eyes that we understand the intrinsic value of the life around us, in its many forms.

When I was a child, a neighbor I knew told me that she’d almost married a man who became a wealthy, prominent politician. Instead, she chose another man who didn’t achieve great wealth or fame. Although she never said it aloud, it was clear to me that she regretted her choice.

As I grew older, she spoke of this choice many times. It wasn’t until I was fifteen or so that I thought through the implications of such a choice: three children that would not be born, extended family that she would never know, decades of experiences she wouldn’t have, the love winding through all of it never to be. She would never have her life particulars had she not made the choice she did.

There’s a precious uniqueness to the life that comes from our choices. Had she made a different choice, she may have had more money and social standing, she may have had a happier marriage – she may even have had children she would love fiercely. But she wouldn’t have the ones that her life had brought. Would she really be willing to wish them out of existence, or did she take it for granted that they would somehow, impossibly, be given even if different life choices were made?

Would I be willing to lose the holy what is, with all its complexity, for an unknown what is not? Would you?

What do I want to leave with my children when I die?

Something positive rather than a mess to clean up.

Something more than an account balance.

Fewer things and a smaller footprint.

The ability to tell wants and needs apart – and to be content with needs met if it means a healthy planet and a peaceful spirit.

The courage to be gentle with this creation.

Joy in the flight of a sparrow and the turtle’s measured gliding.

The World.

Please, God. Amen.