Monday, April 6, 2026: A note and invitation from Rev. Lindsey Kerr of Christ Church United Methodist: (sorry it's so late...)



A note and invitation from Rev. Lindsey Kerr opf Christ Church United Methodist:

Emmaus friends - we're at crucial moment for the Sanctuary Coalition. Next Tuesday (that's tomorrow) the Sonoma County Board of Supervisors are voting on a sanctuary ordinance that excludes the sheriff (which permits the sheriff to continue to collaborate with ICE). 

We're looking for as many people of faith as possible to turn out and be in solidarity with migrants. Any chance we could get a handful of folks from your community to turn out?

Date: Tuesday, April 7th, 2026

Time: 9:00AM

Location: Board of Supervisors Chambers

575 Administration Drive, Room 102A

Santa Rosa 95403


And a poem by Joy Harjo to lighten us along our paths

Morning Prayers


I have missed the guardian spirit

of Sangre de Cristos,

those mountains

against which I destroyed myself

every morning I was sick

with loving and fighting

in those small years.

In that season I looked up

to a blue conception of faith

a notion of the sacred in

the elegant border of cedar trees

becoming mountain and sky.


This is how we were born into the world:

Sky fell in love with earth, wore turquoise,

cantered in on a black horse.

Earth dressed herself fragrantly,

with regard for aesthetics of holy romance.

Their love decorated the mountains with sunrise,

weaved valleys delicate with the edging of sunset.


This morning I look toward the east

and I am lonely for those mountains

Though I’ve said good-bye to the girl

with her urgent prayers for redemption.


I used to believe in a vision

that would save the people

carry us all to the top of the mountain

during the flood

of human destruction.


I know nothing anymore

as I place my feet into the next world

except this:

the nothingness

is vast and stunning,

brims with details

of steaming, dark coffee

ashes of campfires

the bells on yaks or sheep

sirens careening through a deluge of humans

or the dead carried through fire,

through the mist of baking sweet

bread and breathing.


This is how we will leave this world:

on horses of sunrise and sunset

from the shadow of the mountains

who witnessed every battle

every small struggle.






  





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