This silent prairie morning
will explode into an irrational flurry
of colourful vestments,
litanies,
songs,
and the tender laying on of hands

The day will burn on, hot and furious,
(even as the church is quiet, peopled with intense gazes)
and will raise a fire of “Now!
Now! After twenty five years of toil,
loss,
confusion,
suffering,
joys,
wonders,
and hands being laid upon colleague after colleague except for you,
now is your time even though
it has always been your place.”

With water, word, and sacrament,
the sacred,
already pulsing within our collective divine being,
will emerge in grace
to heal our blindness,
a grace to let fall the scales from our eyes
to see you — long-since here, long-since called, long-since sung into being —
as you were,
as you are,
as you have become

The evening prairie sunset will set alight the world,
and lay her heavy heat upon us all like
the stole now around your shoulders;
the faces will drift from the red-bricked church,
back to our homes,
our fields of yellowing canola and ripening wheat,
our children needing supper,
our livestock needing water,
and we will release the heat of the day
in gratitude of you

This community heat will rise to that prairie sky,
a sacred offering to God above, God around, and God within,
to once more explode colour upon the sky
in pinks, oranges, and golds.
May this offering of the entire day — morning, noon, and night —
shape the offering of you
servant
leader
May the colours of the day — morning, noon, and night —
paint the ministry of you
companion
shepherd
May the prairie winds and skies of the day — morning, noon, and night —
always rise to awaken you and to lull you to rest
loved
beloved

It is time.

Amen.