I grew up spending family time in New England's mountains, forests, lakes and oceans.  Several times per year we would pile out of the old Ford station wagon, to gather with grandparents and cousins and a startling amount of golden retrievers. We absolutely lived for these times - to be renewed in nature and with each other. My love of the outdoors, of music, and athletics, were all allowed to be cultivated in my home where   education and service were ultimately and highly prized. We never lacked for a thing, nor did we ever have much excess, but being able to mark the rhythms of each season as a family, was profoundly impactful. Years later I would of course realize that perhaps not every family stopped their dinner conversation completely, and “worshipped” in silence and awe, if there were to be a loon out on the lake making its haunting and beautiful call. Or perhaps not every family would fall to hushed gasps, if someone glimpsed the magnificent wingspan of a blue heron, making her way to touch down at the pond. But this was how it worked on both sides of my extended family, with the sacred being found in nature, as well as in deep times of nourishing retreat together. It is no wonder that my fire for both environmental justice, as well as my love for leading worship in community, was kindled through that base. I had, as we have today, opportunity to release our praise for God's wonder, when it fills us.

I also came up amidst some deep Congregational and UCC roots. I remember hearing the stories at my grandparents' table, recounting the negotiations of the late 1950's when two strands of what would become our denomination, came together to form the United Church of Christ. Some of these summer nights in New England's beauty, we would all grab hymnals and sit out on the porch, watching the sun set on the white mountains, and the singing would begin. This was not my week-to-week routine, but a special one when with extended family, because local church had sort of skipped a generation in my house when I was a kid. So there in the evening outside, the singing would become somehow so glorious and so humble all at once, that it made me really crave much more of it. I wondered why we did not make a community in which we could seek support week by week. I had, and we have today, the chance to be seekers of more life.

I especially look forward to filling in the stories of how I came to do international human rights work, and how my call to ministry was formed in the midst of Chicago's underserved neighborhoods. You will learn of how I became hooked on the promise of what we can live out at church, how I have been developing biblical studies for eco-justice work, have been working with youth, and as a trainer for the national UCC Justice and Witness program for our western region. But I trust you will quickly see that what draws me to minister specifically at Plymouth, during this particular time of becoming, is the privilege to walk together, reaching out in service, to open up space for what is yet to bloom.

I am thrilled to meet you in this chapter and serve at a church where the world's need and God's unstoppable love have intersected for so many decades, and where much more can come. It is my great honor to work here at Plymouth Church for the next year or a little more, as we bridge to a next chapter. I look forward to filling in more about my studies in Sacred Theology and Bible, and to learning more of your stories as we begin walking together, week to week.

When not teaching Bible study, you will find that my daily joys include time on the Ashtanga yoga mat, cooking locally, and running in Seward Park. I also enjoy the other force of nature at my south Seattle household, another minister, to whom I was recently married, and who serves our wider UCC, the Reverend Michael Denton.
—Lauren Cannon