Weaving the Tapestry

I feel the pulse of celebration rising in the air—laughter in the hallways, banners unfurled, rainbow pins and flags pinned to jackets and pews. It is June, and with it comes the sacred rhythm of Pride.

Each year, this season brings a unique kind of energy to my sanctuary. It’s not just the events, the posters, or the colorful shirts. It’s the stories—the quiet ones, the bold ones, the ones still being written. I carry them all within me, etched into my walls like the grain of old wood.

I remember a time when these stories had to be whispered. When love dared not speak its name. When hope was something carried in a hidden pocket, cautiously shared only in the safest of spaces. I remember the courage of those who first stood in my pulpit and named themselves whole. I remember the quiet tears of recognition and the roaring applause of affirmation. These memories live here. They shape the way my windows catch the morning sun, the way my doors open wider with each passing year.

Pride is more than a parade. It is a patchwork quilt of struggle and strength, of community and care. It is woven from the threads of countless lives—some long passed, some just beginning. And like all meaningful things, it is personal. For some, Pride is a celebration of freedom, of finally being seen and heard. For others, it is a step into the light, tentative but courageous. And for many, it is both joy and grief—honoring what has been lost and lifting up what has been found.

I have seen the faces of those who come through my doors during Pride month. Some are radiant with color and joy, others cautious and tender, still learning to believe that this place could truly be safe. I have seen the tentative smiles that slowly bloom into confidence, the nervous hands that reach out to others and find, to their surprise, a warm grasp in return.

Within my walls, I have watched this community grow not just tolerant, but radically loving. Not just accepting, but fiercely affirming. And it is no small thing. It is a sacred act to declare that all people—every single one—deserve love, dignity, and belonging. It is a radical thing, in a world so often divided by fear and ignorance, to open wide the doors and say, "Come as you are."

This month, as we join hands with those who have paved the way and those still seeking a path, let us remember that we are not only celebrating identity—we are celebrating connection. Our strength as UUNWI is not in sameness, but in the radiant diversity of those who gather here. Each story is a thread in the tapestry of who we are. Each voice adds depth to our song. Each presence strengthens the whole.

Let us not forget those who still struggle. The youth who fear coming out. The elders who remember when silence was survival. The parents learning to understand, the communities wrestling with change. Let us be a sanctuary not just in name, but in action—a place where love is lived out loud.

So come, with your rainbows and your reverence. Come with your questions and your declarations. Come with your wounds and your joy. Whether you have marched every year or are just beginning to understand what this all means—this is your home. You do not have to be perfect. You only have to be you.

And when the colors fade from the street and the banners are folded away, I will still be here, waiting to remind you that you are loved. That your story matters. That your light belongs.

With every creak and whisper, I stand ready to hold your stories.

Yours in spirit,

The Spirit of UUNWI