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Sunday Worship Mother’s Day May 9, 2010
Kathleen Buckstaff
May 9, 2010



Last Sunday, Kathleen Buckstaff, storyteller in the classic form, monologist, performance artist, and WPC congregant offered the morning meditation in a monologue recalling the mothers and grandmothers in her family and inviting worshippers into sacred remembrances of their own mothers and, perhaps, their own roles.

You may listen to Kathleen Buckstaff's monologue by going to the church website and following the link under “Sundays” to the weekly sermon section:

www.wpctiburon.org

Kathleen has shared her wisdom with the Presbyterian Women and the Guatemala Medical Team fundraiser. Her book, The Tiffany Box: A Love Remembered, will be released soon and then open on stage in Phoenix in November.

• The service and monologue were guided by the following passage from Scripture:
Proverbs 24:3-4, 13-14
     “By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches.
     “My child, eat honey, for it is good, and the drippings of the honeycomb are sweet to your taste. Know that wisdom is such to your soul; if you find it, you will find a future, and your hope will not be cut off.”

• The bulletin cover was taken from John O'Donohue's To Bless The Space Between Us:
     Mother,
     Your voice learning to soothe     You nurtured and fostered this space
     Your new child               Was the first mirror
     Was the first home-sound           To root all our quietly gathering intensity
     We heard before we could see.     That could grow nowhere else.

     Your young eyes Gazing on us     Mother, formed from the depths beneath your      
     Was the first mirror               heart,
     Where we glimpsed          You know us from inside out.
     What to be seen could mean.     No deeds or seas or others
                         Could ever erase that.
     Mother, your nearness tilled the air,
     An umbilical garden for all the seeds          
     Of thought that stirred in our infant hearts.



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