Spoken Aloud, Held in Common

This week, our prayers make space for progress, concern, gratitude, and care.

We pray for Jan, Suzanne P.’s sister-in-law, who received a revised diagnosis of level 2 congestive heart failure—less severe than previously believed. A moment of relief, met with ongoing tenderness.

We pray for Russ, Suzanne P.’s brother, who is beginning to show signs of Alzheimer’s. We hold Russ, Suzanne, and their family in care as they face uncertainty together.

We pray for Steve M., who shared a milestone in his recovery—he was able to mow his full lawn for the first time in a while. He also asked for guidance as he continues with medical treatment.

We give thanks for Jim V., whose work installing memorial stained glass in the kitchen windows and track lighting for the meditation garden brings beauty and and tender memories. Bob M. named this with gratitude.

We pray for Sandra J., who is preparing to leave on a two-week mission trip. We send her with our blessings and care.

We give thanks for Lorie C. and the reflection she offered. She spoke about the joy, love, and smiling faces in this congregation—and how supported she and John have felt since their move from Glenwood Springs.

We pray for Betty, Debbie B.’s sister, who is experiencing a relapse of a recurring health challenges after a period of improvement. Our hearts are with her in this hard turn.

We give thanks with Melanie M., who shared that their recent trip to a nephew’s graduation went beautifully. She was grateful for the prayers that surrounded their travel.

We celebrate with Larry E., who recently retired from CU. Myrle M. offered congratulations on this meaningful milestone.

These are the names we heard aloud. These are the lives we carry together—with gentleness, honesty, and hope. 

What we named in community this week

 

On Sunday, our prayers ranged wide—across grief, gratitude, milestones, and movement. Some were spoken in celebration. Some with longing. Some simply to name what is real.

Here’s what we carried together:

Michele gave thanks for a neighbor’s quiet kindness in mowing the Matthews’ lawn. She also asked for prayers, on this Mother’s Day, for parents who have lost children.

Judy expressed gratitude for her own mother, long gone, and lifted up those for whom the relationship with their mothers is painful or unresolved. She also asked for safe travels for her sister and brother-in-law, who are coming to visit.

Rebecca shared joy as Mawce prepares to graduate from high school on May 18. She asked for traveling mercies for the family gathering to celebrate.

Sabrina lifted up prayers for strength and patience for teachers as they move through the final stretch of the school year.

Bob asked for prayers for mothers everywhere—especially those in war zones.

Melanie asked for traveling mercies as she and Bob head out to attend her nephew’s graduation. She also asked for prayers around restoring relationships in her family.

Diane celebrated Jim’s 97th birthday—a long life, marked with presence and community.

Each of these prayers holds its own weight, and together, they shape the kind of community we’re becoming—honest, imperfect, attentive.

These are the names we said aloud

On Sunday, we gathered around the table. No sermon. Just silence, readings, and presence.

And in that space, a few names rose—held not just in words, but in care.

We prayed for Mawce, standing on the edge of what’s next. They’ll attend Emerson College in Boston this fall. The road to college is both exciting and overwhelming—and they won’t walk it alone.

We prayed for Mike, Joan’s neighbor, who faces brain surgery this week. As he prepares for what’s ahead, we carry him in our thoughts and hope for steady hands and full healing.

We prayed for Bren, who shared that this was her final Sunday at St. Paul’s. She’s moving to Ohio soon, and we send her with deep gratitude for the time shared in this community.

We prayed for Kami and Blair, named by Rev. Elizabeth. No details needed—just the kind of prayer that comes from paying attention to people you love.

Some names were spoken. Others remained quiet.
We hold them all, trusting that naming is its own kind of care.