So completely overwhelmed, my friends. This morning I went to a beautiful lecture/speech and the speaker said, to the effect anyway, “When we hurt the least of us, we are hurting God. God suffers when the hungry are not fed, when the thirsty do not have water….to help God is to help each other.”
I nearly cried right there and my eyes are suspiciously moist now.
Here’s a poem, written a while back initially that I have been working on for a while.
The Body of Christ
We remember Him by breaking bread or
Is that the way He remembers us? Either way
Breaking is messy – let’s be glad it isn’t glass
Imagine the shards
Stabbing us
The drops of inevitable blood
Instead, today, with each piece pulled free and given,
Tiny crumbs fell to the ground, creating an abundance of memory
Reminding us of dogs who also
Deserve salvation and the birds of the air
And even of mustard seeds
Close your eyes. Wonder about mysteries
Wonder about wholeness that is found
only in the beautiful broken mess and then open your sight
to the cross, to what we are remembering
to Whom was so messily broken for dusty us
FTGOG 
Lovely! Reminds me of when we tried doing communion-by-intinction with more crusty/shattery bread (sourdough rather than challah). The challah is definitely neater, but there’s some useful symbolism in the messier stuff.