Anoint the students and teachers (and parents, if desired): Name, Child of God, you are known and loved.
Penguin should be different voice than pastor.
Instead of hollow bird bones, God made my bones heavy and solid so I can dive deep and swim strong. God gave my feathers muscles in the shafts, to lock them down tight and waterproof, and oil on top to block the arctic wind. God gave me a filter gland to take salt out of salt water, so I can be hydrated wherever I am. God gave me a fancy tuxedo to protect me from predators: From above I look like the dark water, from below, the bright sky. God gave me special feet: they’re my webbed rudders to steer my speeding through the water, they’re my grippy hiking boots to hold me up on slippery, slow walks, and when I slide fast through the icy world on my belly, they’re my propellers, steering wheel, and brakes.
I’m adaptable and I’m resilient. I am slow and I am fast. I am silly and I am smart. I am a penguin, and God gives me just what I need to help me through the world.
Beloved Ones: God gives you just what you need to help you through the world.
May you dive deep and travel strong,
filter out what’s harmful and take in what is good.
May God hold you steady when things get slippery,
give you brakes when things move fast,
and protect you from harm.
I am adaptable and resilient, slow and fast, silly and smart.
I am me, and God gives me what I need.
God bless you and me!
To stay waterproof, once a year I have a “catastrophic molt”: I lose all my feathers and grow new ones. Then I’m tufty and scruffy, and I feel kind of weak. I don’t know when this will happen; it’s inconvenient and annoying. When my messy breakdown comes, I will pause my normal hunting and swimming and make sure to rest more. I have to trust that even though I’m uncomfortable, something new is growing in me. I will not always feel as rough and raggedy as I do in this moment. I must let go some of who I was so I can keep becoming who I am.
Beloved Ones: God will transform you this year, and new things will grow in you.
Sometimes it will be uncomfortable, messy and annoying,
but you will not feel rough and raggedy forever.
May you trust in God’s care,
let go of what no longer serves you,
and give your body, heart and mind the rest you need,
even when it’s inconvenient.
When I’m tufty and scruffy, something new is growing in me.
God bless you and me.
My voice is unique; no one sounds just like me. I know my friends’ and family’s particular songs. I pick out special rocks for my friends. When I see someone I love, I dance with joy. I wouldn’t survive alone. I belong to everyone else, and they belong to me. We guard each other from danger by sticking together. When we huddle on land it’s called a waddle, and in the water, it’s called a raft. I am an expert hugger; we keep each other warm by taking turns in the middle. Each of us is different, and we’re also all the same: we all need each other, and we all take care of each other.
Beloved Ones: We wouldn’t survive alone. You belong to God and you belong to all others.
We celebrate your unique song.
Watching you be you makes us dance with joy.
May you find your voice,
and share your gifts.
When you take your turns in the middle,
may you feel God’s warmth and protection,
through the love and care of others.
And when other people need that warmth,
may you be their raft,