by Catherine Malotky

Sometimes, God, I need you to be my sister. It is so much more common to think of you as father, brother, king, warrior. But there are times when I need from you what only a sister can give.

You have given me powerful, faithful sisters. They are bright and insightful, loving and strong. They know stories about me, and I, about them. We can laugh and remember. We can hear each other’s perceptions about our life together in the past, and the lives we are making now. They pray for me. They allow me to feel centered; they love me. Sometimes they challenge me. You can do the same for me, precious God. You know the stories of my youth. You know the ways I have grown and struggled, and you love me still. You celebrate my victories and even dance with me in my prayers. You also weep with me when I am burdened by grief, when I have lost my way, when I yearn to be whole and hopeful. You call me to be my best, to think and act and serve.

You have given me your stories. They have been preserved by faithful tellers in the Scriptures I cherish. And if I listen, I hear you offering me new perspectives, helping me reflect on my life, through these stories. Only a divine voice could call the whole creation into being with a word! Only a loving sculptor would shape us from the dust of the ground. Only endless compassion would take on flesh and walk among us.

You are with me, Sister God, in the holy food you offer at your table. You do not expect me to live on spirit only, but offer body and blood, bread and wine, to nourish and encourage me. You are here, in the flesh, when I need you.

And, dear God, you have surrounded me with sisters of your making. Such an imagination you have! You have given me sisters far beyond the ones who shared my mother’s womb. You have given me sisters across the globe. Some are like me, with children like mine, with hopes and fears like mine, with futures like mine. Some are completely different. Some call me to risk and grow beyond what I ever imagined I could. Some are old and wise. Some are gone now, but their legacies live on in my life and in the world around me. Some are young, and they invite me to lean into the future with care and intention. Such gifts these sisters are to me, loving God. Open me to their presence. Teach me to see your face and heart in them. Weave our lives together so that we might be the body of Christ, nudging and shaping the world to look the way you long for it to look. May we be partners in justice and mercy for all our sisters, certain of your love for each and for all. Amen.

Catherine Malotky serves the ELCA Board of Pensions as representative for North Dakota, South Dakota, and Minnesota. An ordained pastor, she has also been an editor, teacher, parish pastor, and retreat leader.