words and pictures by June Friesen, scripture via The Message
What a glorious way to greet the morning! To be greeted by the rising of the sun that ultimately rises because of the Son. I have a friend who loves to put a twist on this greeting by saying ‘God Morning,’ in response to ‘good morning.’ And how appropriate that is because without God there would be no sun or sunrise to begin the day.
The second wonder of a new day’s beginning is the singing of the birds. At sunrise, it is a chorus of birds – God’s natural choir causing one’s heart to be lifted in praise for a brand new beginning to another day. My favorite Scripture is Psalm 19:1-9 which reflects on the wonder of creation.
Psalm 19:1-9 (The Message)
1-2 God’s glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon.
Madame Day holds classes every morning, Professor Night lectures each evening.3-4 Their words aren’t heard, their voices aren’t recorded,
But their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.4-5 God makes a huge dome for the sun—a superdome!
The morning sun’s a new husband leaping from his honeymoon bed,
The day-breaking sun an athlete racing to the tape.6 That’s how God’s Word vaults across the skies from sunrise to sunset,
Melting ice, scorching deserts, warming hearts to faith.7-9 The revelation of God is whole and pulls our lives together.
The signposts of God are clear and point out the right road.
The life-maps of God are right, showing the way to joy.
The directions of God are plain and easy on the eyes.
God’s reputation is twenty-four-carat gold, with a lifetime guarantee.
The decisions of God are accurate down to the nth degree.
Today much of our world is struggling to find their way through time. For some it may be a struggle because of health issues. For others, it may be restrictions because of political or religious unrest. For others, it may be drastic changes in employment, housing, food availability, shortages or limited water supply as well as clean water availability. There is struggle because so many in the world today desire to be in control with little regard for others. Over the last couple of months, we have talked about all the things that are or have become like ashes in our lives as well as things that maybe we should let become ashes in our lives. Yet it is also important that we realize that new life can be made from as well as out of ashes.
As I take time to read the above verses from time to time it is the last three verses that are of particular challenge to me and I might say that they are also a comfort to me.
It is God’s revelation that is whole, perfect and complete. In our Scriptures we see that it is He who is the Creator and designer of this great universe as well as this planet earth that we as humans call home during our physical lifetime. God attempts to help each of us during our lifetime to embrace Him and live our lives in harmony with others as well as creation. Second it tells us that He has signposts that show us how to live. For some that may be more of a challenge than others however I believe the Psalmist is referring to those who are God-fearing believers and many of those signs of help come as we become familiar with the whole of Scriptures. As I read the next phrase I pondered – ‘what is a life map?’ Once again when we choose to follow God and also read His Scriptures, we find references throughout the Old and New Testaments that help us make good choices and give us guidance in our lives. It says these life maps bring joy into our lives. I would add that one can and does find joy as well as peace when making godly choices in life. The directions of God are plain and easy on the eyes. Again, I find that God makes things pretty obvious most of the time; there may be a time or two when one has to look a little harder but that may be because we have gotten sidetracked in some way or other in our walk with Him. As these verses end it says that there is a lifetime guarantee for each one of us who chooses to embrace this walk with God. A life time guarantee? Yes, and that brings me to another Scripture that Jesus shared with His followers when He was still here on earth from John 14:1-7:
“Don’t let this rattle you. You trust God, don’t you? Trust me. There is plenty of room for you in my Father’s home. If that weren’t so, would I have told you that I’m on my way to get a room ready for you? And if I’m on my way to get your room ready, I’ll come back and get you so you can live where I live. And you already know the road I’m taking.”
5 Thomas said, “Master, we have no idea where you’re going. How do you expect us to know the road?”
6-7 Jesus said, “I am the Road, also the Truth, also the Life. No one gets to the Father apart from me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well.”
Yes, this is a great truth and a great promise to embrace, especially in times of troublesome issues, whether in our personal lives, or in our communities, or in the world. ‘Don’t get rattled’ or don’t get stressed out – so easy to say or even think or but to try to believe for oneself? Making it a personal practice can become one of the greatest challenges in one’s daily life.
As I have considered these Scriptures once again – and as I take regular walks and hikes it seems to me that there was a great reason behind God’s plan of creating a garden as He did in the beginning for humanity. God knew that it would be in nature we would be able to see His glory on display as well as embrace His presence through the senses that He gave us. I invite you to join me on a daily walk in my life.
TODAY I WALKED WITH GOD
Good morning my alarm says to me –
Another day is here for you to greet –
I rise from my bed of rest –
And I prepare myself for a walk –
Sasha, our shepherd is always up for a walk upon rising.
Depending upon what time of the year the sights and sounds vary –
It is springtime for us now so
The sun is beginning to rise to give light to the day,
Sometimes the sunrise is filled with a myriad of colors,
Sometimes it is a ball of fire and other times it just gives light to the morn.
There is the beauty of many kinds of trees with many kinds of leaves,
They grace life with shapes, sizes and places for little homes,
Little homes for a variety of birds to nestle as well as raise their little ones,
And oh, how those birds begin to chirp in a great chorus as the sun rises.
Different trees seem to be home to different songs –
There are sparrows, chickadees, doves, pigeons, small black birds, as well as a family of hawks,
Some are already on the hunt for morning morsels while others are merely awaking.
Then later in the day there are a couple more walks along this familiar path,
There may be children sighted playing on the playground,
Adults doing some gardening, and others just enjoying the moment –
There may be clouds in the sky, sometimes a sprinkle of rain or two….
And if one is really fortunate one of God’s beautiful rainbows arched in the skies.
As I walk through the beauty God gifts on this earth,
My heart is turned heavenward in gratefulness –
I give thanks for eyes to behold such incredible beauty,
I give thanks for ears that embrace the sounds delicate and sometimes rather boisterous,
I give thanks for my nose which blesses me with odors, some delightful and others not so much,
I give thanks for my hands that hold my dog’s leash to keep her safe,
I also give great thanks for my legs and my feet that hold me up and walk me several miles each day,
I give thanks to God for allowing me the gift of getting to know Him so intimately over my lifetime –
I now invite you to take some time in your day, or days
To embrace the wonderful creation around you with praise to God –
It will help one embrace life as it has been, as it is and as it will become
When God is one’s focus on the walk through each day of life.
Amen and amen.
We all need the Wholeness of God…this resource includes reflections and activities for coping and thriving during the COVID-19 challenges in search of shalom as well as hope for restoration during and after this period of social distancing.
A couple of weeks ago I asked my Southern Hemisphere friends what symbols and rhythms gave meaning to the seasons of the liturgical year for them. I thoroughly enjoyed their responses which helped me reimagine the symbols and celebrations I find most meaningful as the world turns and the seasons change.
Evidently when Europeans moved to the Southern Hemisphere they took the symbols and celebrations they were familiar with along because these gave them security and connection. Winter symbols and rituals for Christmas made them feel at home when they celebrated Christmas in the middle of summer. Yet these symbols and the rituals they were encouraged to use didn’t help them connect to their new earthly home and its seasons. This disconnect meant that their faith became more and more disconnected from the world in which they lived.
I may not live in the Southern Hemisphere now but I wonder if we suffer from the same disconnect wherever we live. It’s probable that Advent wreaths originate from the custom of removing wagon wheels over the winter – hanging them on the walls and then decorating them with greenery and candles. Now I don’t know about you but I don’t remove my car wheels over the winter and much as I love poinsettias at Christmas and have no desire to let go of them, I know they don’t help me connect to the beautiful Pacific NW where I live. I must confess, as I share in my recent book Digging Deeper, I soon became bored with Advent wreaths too, and went looking for other symbols and practices to help connect me to where I live. I have done the same for Easter, and for other celebrations that are important to me.
This journey started with replacing Advent wreaths with contemplative gardens. These gardens first held succulents, but increasing contain local plants and involve seasonal activities, like sprinkling seeds on the soil and watching it germinate and grow at Easter. They also often connect to world events like the bushfires in Australia or the war in Ukraine as well as to seasonal activities like beachcombing in summer.
Now I am wondering how I can make more of my seasonal celebrations link me to the world in which I live. One of the privileges of living in the Pacific NW is that so much of our Christmas greenery is locally grown. I love walking through a Christmas tree lot at the beginning of the season inhaling the wonderful fragrance of pine leaves One year I even got to go out to a Christmas tree farm and help cut down our own tree – a wonderful way to connect to this part of God’s good earth in which I live.
However I don’t want Christmas and Easter to be my only meaningful celebrations. My awe and wonder walks definitely help me with connecting my seasonal rituals to the land too. I love to wander our neighbourhood drinking in the beauty of the gardens around me. Unfortunately, most of them contain little local flora apart from pine trees, so I need the occasional good walk in one of our local forests to really appreciate the beauty of this part of the world.
Looking for sights and sounds and objects that connect me to the four seasons of the year is now one of my favourite pastimes and my list of possible ways to link my spiritual practices more firmly to God’s good earth grows all the time. Welcoming the day with a short prayer at sunrise and saying goodnight with another as I go to bed is one way. Collecting pine cones and leaves that fall from the deciduous trees and then decorating them to place around the house in the autumn is another . Some of my friends are foragers – searching for mushrooms or picking local fruit like huckleberries provide wonderful seasonal forays into the natural landscape that help to make us feel at home in the land in which we live. Or like me you might enjoy beach combing in the summer. Listening to the waves and enjoying an oceanside stroll is a wonderful summer ritual. I am also currently investigating how I can introduce more local plants into my own garden as I think this is an important way to anchor ourselves in the place in which we live and its seasonal changes.
We are designed to be linked with the earth, to nurture and steward it and there is no better way to do that than by connecting our celebrations to rituals and rhythms in our natural neighbourhood. This doesn’t mean that we throw out all our established seasonal traditions, but it does mean we should intentionally think about other symbols and rhythms that could connect us to God’s good earth and the seasonal changes in the place where we live.
It is an exciting journey of discovery and I hope you will join me on it.
What are habits and rhythms that help you connect your faith to the place in which you live and to the seasons in which you find yourself?
What could you do to strengthen these habits or create new ones?
Who could help you on your journey?
With our latest Facebook live session and spend some time considering your own rhythms and rituals.
Available as an online course, sign up here to gain 180 days of access while you work through this retreat at your own pace. Join Lilly Lewin and Christine Sine in the awe of the broad array of summer symbols that can gain spiritual significance for us when we stop and think about them. Everything from beachcombing to putting on suntan lotion can be the inspiration for practices that draw us closer to God.
Ground yourself in the earth and its summer season where you live and find the ways that God is speaking through it – all the details can be found here!
A contemplative service with music in the spirit of Taize. Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.
Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with license #A-710-756 with additional notes below:
“In Silence We Wait” Text and Music by Susan Masters. Copyright and all rights reserved by Augsburg Fortress Press
“Maker Song” Music and lyrics by Kester Limner, 2019. Shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY)
“In God Alone my Soul (Mon Ame se Repose)” By J. Berthier — copyright 1991, all rights reserved by GIA/Les Presses de Taizé
“Shepherd Song” Words adapted from John 10:11-18. Music by Kester Limner. Creative Commons copyright–free to use with attribution (CC-BY)
Thank you for praying with us!
by Melissa Taft
Tomorrow heralds Mother’s Day in the US; it’s not too late to find a way to honor your mother or another mother in your life! The second Sunday in May is a popular time around the world to hold a celebration honoring mothers, including Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and many others – though it is certainly celebrated at other times in other countries. You’ve still got time, France!
You can find resources on Mother’s Day in our Seasons and Blessings Page, but I thought I’d offer a gathering of resources today for those who are still looking for encouragement or perhaps a prayer.
As we are still in the Easter Season, finding a way to honor a special mother in your life is a way to practice resurrection. Living into that joy and channeling it into celebrating your mother or another special mother is a fun spiritual practice. Whether you are planning a service for mothers or seeking to honor a mother individually, you might enjoy using this Mother’s Day Litany.
Perhaps you are a mother. Indeed, all of us are called in some way or another to mother, as we reflect the Image of God. You may wish to honor that mothering part of yourself by honoring God our Mother. Or you may wish simply to honor God in this way. This post on Maternal Images of God, as well as this post on Biblical Maternal Images of God, contains lovely reflections and images to center this idea.
In fact, if you find Mother’s Day difficult due to wounds in that area, it can be very healing to connect to God in this way. This Meditation Monday post on Connecting to the Mother Heart of God has a lovely prayer and meditation on this subject. There are many reasons why one might find Mother’s Day difficult, from child loss or infertility or adoption wounds to the loss of your mother, or many other circumstances. This reflection from Lynn Baab on difficulties surrounding Mother’s Day might be balm for your soul. This post on honoring birth mothers, and this post on mothering children with special needs, may also give encouragement to you – even if that isn’t your circumstance.
Motherhood isn’t easy; take time to reflect and care for yourself as well as a mother. This lovely poem from Kara Root and this reflection by Sara Easterly I found particularly meaningful for my own motherhood journey this year. My first Mother’s Day away from both my mom and my children, and I confess it has been a blessing to reflect even in the midst of sorrow at the separation.
Still there is joy to be found, even in my less-than-ideal circumstance, and even in yours. May God bless all the mothers on this Mother’s Day!
Photo by Ijaz Rafi on Unsplash
~ Goodfellow
Explore the wonderful ways that God and God’s story are revealed through the rhythms of planting, growing, and harvesting. Spiritual insights, practical advice for organic backyard gardeners, and time for reflection will enrich and deepen faith–sign up for 180 days of access to work at your own pace and get ready for your gardening season.
Lisa Scandrette is writing freerangefriday this week while I am out of town. I’ve known Lisa for almost twenty years and she is a dear friend! She lives out her faith daily through hospitality, creativity and compassion for others. She is a weaver, an educator and a world traveler! She also is amazing fiber artist!
“You knit me together in my mother’s womb…I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
It has been easier for me to quote this verse than to embed the belief into my own heart. In 2020, seeking to live into this truth, I decided to knit a doll of myself in order to meditate on this truth. I selected a pattern, yarn for her flesh, hair, eyes, and clothes, and began to slowly knit my doll-formed self. As I knit her, I reflected on how I embrace who I am made to be.
When I knit, it takes lots of care and intention. It starts with selecting the yarn. What is most suitable for the project I am making? Then comes a knit sample to make sure that the item I am knitting with turn out the size that I am anticipating when I am done. And then I cast on the project. The item is completed by creating loop after loop, stitch after stitch, one at a time. Rows build upon rows. The yarn passes through my fingers and I feel every inch of it. If I make a mistake, I carefully undo the previous stitches to fix the hole I have created. Knitting isn’t a slapdash way to create, but rather slow, thoughtful and precise. Each creation is unique. To suggest that God knit me together in my mother’s womb suggests that he took time, careful thought and planning to create me. Perhaps God started in one direction, thought better of it, and decided to make me different. Perhaps, like me, God sat back and examined her work, running her hands over it with thoughtful satisfaction, pausing to take it in from time to time.
My quirks, the way I’m wired—it’s all on purpose. Can I learn to love my quirks and imperfections? What about my gray streaks? What about the slow way I move in the world? Do I have the courage to embrace who I am and openly offer what I have, trusting that it will be used by God? Will I show up as my true self?
I struggle to honor my own voice, thoughts, and desires, tempted to believe that somehow mine are not as important or worthy as those of others. Or I believe the lie that what I have to offer doesn’t really matter. There are already so many competent voices speaking loudly. So, I am prone to self-censor and withdraw when I forget my true identity. Sometimes I think that mattering has to do with how many people hear me—the size of my “platform” or how many followers I have. But, I am not a big platform kind of person. I love the small and the beautiful. Deep down, I think the invisible and less visible matters. On a good day, I want to live beautifully and matter to the people that I know and love and come into contact with. On a good day, I want to love well in secret. But, there are other days that I feel the pressure that what matters must be public and loud. And I feel ill-equipped for that.
When I fall into the trap of comparison, I often think it would be better if I was more like another person—more eloquent, more put together in my appearance, more fit-looking, more activist, whatever the comparison of the day is. Instead, I am wanting to learn to become more fully the self I was created to be in all my quirky uniqueness.
As I’ve been working through these aspects of identity, my goal is to learn to become the most flourishing “Lisa” that God envisioned when I was knit together in my mother’s womb. In that light, I matter a great deal and what I say and do matters. If I lived more fully into this, I would care well for my physical needs. I would recognize and honor the gifts that I bring to the world and develop them. I would authentically own my thoughts and opinions, even when others disagree. I would write and let others see it, even if it’s just a few. I would express my creativity. I would surround myself with beauty. I would be comfortable in my own skin and honor what I already do to live in beauty and walk with Jesus, not just see the ways that I wish I did. I would be comfortable with my limitations, and I would step into things that I desire, but that I am not yet comfortable with. I would learn to not be limited by fear of mistakes or failure—in fact, I would embrace them as ways to learn. I would be secure in the fact that I am deeply beloved, no matter what I do, say or am.
My doll now sits among my books on a shelf in my office. She looks out with her blue eyes, wearing a Norwegian sweater just like mine. She makes me smile. I see the potential to add to her, to complete her representation even more. I am reminded that creating beauty takes time and I pray for God’s slow handiwork to be continually embodied in me.
God has knit you and I both together with care and intention. You matter! You are welcomed with joy, with eagerness, with open arms! You are celebrated and anticipated. How would you live if you embraced the person that God knit together so carefully in your mother’s womb? What would that look like for you?
Lisa Scandrette has devoted herself to a life of care, hospitality, and teaching. She regularly facilitates workshops and provides administrative support for ReIMAGINE, a center for integral Christian practice with a mission to help people become more fully human through engagement with the life and teachings of Jesus. She makes a life in the Mission District of San Francisco with her husband Mark and their three children, and she is coauthor of FREE: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most.
Read about Lisa’s work with ReIMAGINE.
It’s here! Christine Sine’s new book is now ready for purchase! Journey along with Christine as she walks you through contemplative container gardening. Reviews are coming in:
“Digging Deeper is a beautiful companion for anyone who is looking for a mindful and sacred way of connecting their bodies to their souls, and their prayers to actions. All you need is a bowl, some dirt, this lovely book, and the desire to slow down and dig deep. – Jerusalem Jackson Greer, author of At Home in this Life: Finding Peace at the Crossroads of Unraveled Dreams and Beautiful Surprises”
guest post by Gary Heard
It’s a nuisance when Easter eggs appear as temperatures reach the 30Cs – having to consume all the chocolate before it melts! ‘Tis a sad waste of a wonderful delicacy to wash it away with soap… Yet this is a minor inconvenience when celebrating Easter away from the emerging spring, so woven into the traditional celebration of Easter inherited from our northern cousins. As Hedley Beare expressed recently (Faith 23/2), fourth-century Christians found it uncannily expedient to attach celebrations of the death and resurrection of Jesus to an earlier pagan festival marking the commencement of spring: themes of new life, rebirth and renewal already irresistibly embodied in the festival, waiting to be impregnated with Christian meaning. The emergence of new life in creation as trees and plants begin regeneration and new growth was a powerful symbol to reflect upon in light of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
But does springtime fully embody the meaning of events surrounding the passion of Jesus? Are we in the Antipodes somehow deprived of a full appreciation of the Easter miracle? Or does this almost exclusive focus on new life mask something more profound about the life and teaching of Jesus?
In Australia Easter comes as trees shed their leaves, and fading light yields to increased darkness. The autumnal equinox marks the shift from days where light is the greater part of the day. Daylight saving’s end creates the impression of a sudden darkness as evening abruptly falls much earlier. The next three months brings days shorter, colder, somehow more alienating. We witness creation in throes of deconstruction: animals begin to hibernate, some birds spread their wings for warmer climes, many flowering plants shut down production, and deciduous trees shed their leaves, ultimately lending a more sober and subdued, even dreary hue to the landscape. While we feel some relief at the passing of scorching heat (although less so this year), there appears little to celebrate, little sign of the new life integral to the Easter story.
The Australian context has yet to find its expression in this Christian celebration. Alongside borrowed Christmas symbols of snow and holly, our Easter celebration strikes a discordant note with the landscape, creation somehow out of sync with the Creator. Either we need to move the celebration of Easter to a more appropriate time of year, or seek themes and messages more consistent with creation’s voice. If an authentic and relevant spirituality reflects and shapes the rhythms of life, how can we ground the Christian message in experiences and symbols common to our setting, as it seems to have been practised by the early church? Is this possible with Easter?
My discomfort with the way Easter – particularly Good Friday – is celebrated in many churches extends beyond its dissonance with the surrounding landscape. Easter within the church reflects society’s broader reluctance to grapple with any sense of pain and loss. Rarely have I sat in a Good Friday service without hearing a strong proclamation of the resurrection: a thought not echoed in the experience of Jesus’ disciples, who were enveloped in despair as they watched Jesus die, the shadow deepened by their complicity in his death through either denial or abandonment in his time of need. In Jesus’ death they saw their hope die. The dream Jesus instilled in them dissipated at the cross.
Yet rarely have I experienced this in a Good Friday service. Jesus’ death seems trivialised against the backdrop of the resurrection, the disciples’ struggle and pain is glossed over, their sense of loss dismissed. Standing on this side of the resurrection makes it difficult to appreciate the emptiness they felt, yet in the journey of faith we must endeavour to enter that same space today.
Contemporary celebrations of Easter often overlook how this new life emerged. An all-pervading gloom marks the Easter story, as critical events occurred under cover of darkness: Jesus’ betrayal, arrest and trial, Peter’s denial; even Jesus’ death took place in darkness. The resurrection hope only emerged through the despairing death of Jesus – the one Christians call the Son of God. Jesus’ disciples, Jews, and Roman authorities clearly could not reconcile the two, as Jesus’ death appeared as conclusive evidence against his claims.
When our primary focus falls on the resurrection without contemplating the circumstances that made it necessary, we merely echo a motivational message that failure is not the end, merely an opportunity to learn and grow. Easter is no tale of persistence through tragedy. But for God raising Jesus from the dead, Jesus’ death was the end. The resurrection was the sole source of light in an otherwise dark tale, and yet an overwhelming source of hope. Jesus’ death flowed from his submission to God’s purposes. In an act of obedience and surrender, Jesus embodied his teaching that the way to life was to lose it, surrendering to the purposes of God. Not seeking to preserve his own life for his own sake, Jesus gave it up for a greater purpose.
Creation at autumn echoes that truth, as flora and fauna ‘die off’ for months, a necessary prelude to new spring growth. Symbols of death surround us: autumn leaves dancing their finale across the streets; lengthening sunsets and cooler evenings driving us into shelter earlier, just as much of the animal world retreats to cosier places; the cries of summer birds slowly silenced; creation slows its pace. As winter dawns, and winter blues cast their shadow, we may despair of ever experiencing summer sun once more. Yet this is part of creation’s rhythm, clearing away the old in preparation for the new. Only as these sights and sounds die can they be born afresh.
New life – springtime – stands now only as promise, just as resurrection was Jesus’ promise to the disciples, just as new life is promise to all who would follow Jesus. Born out of death, resurrected from the demise of the present, new life comes. It is a way to life few choose, preferring to trust in their own strength than to surrender into the hands of another, to hold on rather than let go. To truly live, we must be prepared to die.
Gary Heard is a Baptist Minister and senior lecturer in Pastoral and Ministry Studies in the University of Divinity. He is married to Evelyn and has three adult children.
Photo by Maddi Bazzocco on Unsplash
It is the Easter Season! Lasting from Easter into Pentecost, it is a time to celebrate and heal! This free download will help you find the joy in the season and includes practical suggestions for celebrating in a Covid-19 world as well.
The Earth’s elements and seasons are among my favorite spiritual guides. My prayer life, my relationships with friends and family, the rich traditions of both the Church and culture(s) also offer me guidance. Yet, recently, sacred signs of Earth and Spirit are inviting me to discover my own rhythm of how to live authentically.
It is early spring in the Pacific Northwest. Where I live, winter and spring often overlap. On one day we can have both seasons; donning wool hats and gloves, shorts and sandals. In early spring the landscapes, particularly on the beaches, are chaotic. High winds and king tides cause havoc washing out footbridges and hiding trails with logs washing ashore.
Forests and gardens are also not quite the same place as they were previously. The land is no longer covered with winter’s comforting cold. Frozen ground is now muddy. The plants are gray and brown and to my eye do not look hopeful at all. Early spring seems to last forever. Winter is not finished and the greening power of God has not yet begun.
For me, the spiritual guidance of spring is an invitation to practice patience and to trust the Creator and the natural cycles of the Earth. I learn that nature is in charge and that she does not operate on the same schedule as our human-made calendars. Spring teaches me to surrender and accept “what is.” And “what is” is constant change and transition. Everything is pending and nothing is resolved. I confess that I find that challenging!
Early spring coincides with Lent. For me, Lent is the season to nourish my heart, the ground of my being. This year I had a daily ritual of looking for something beautiful every day; writing it in a beauty journal. Beauty was discovered in surprising and varied places. Some were in nature, but I also found beauty in my prayer, books, as well as in my personal relationships. This practice helped to counter my impatience with dark days, enabling me to live in the present moment. I cherish my journal with its list of forty days of beauty that I continue to appreciate.
Health challenges were part of my Lenten journey this year. A terrible chest cold kept me away from corporate worship and visiting grandchildren for over two weeks. Despite my beauty list there was one day in particular when I found myself slipping into self-pity and depression. I prayed and hit a wall of silence.
The sun was out and beckoned me to come outdoors. The wind was wild so I wrapped myself in a blanket and sat in a chair on my deck and tried praying again. I asked the Holy Spirit, who rides on the breath of the wind, to sweep me out and cleanse my body, mind and heart. I addressed Brother Wind and asked for his wisdom and guidance. I was presented with healing images of Mother Mary and changing images of Christ. I was also shown images of water which I interpreted as an invitation to go to the beach. There I practiced a ritual of letting go, by finding and releasing stones back into the water. Love, peace and joy flooded my being. The next morning, I awoke in much better health. There is no question in my mind that God used the elements of wind, water and the Spirit’s love to heal me.
Five days later I experienced a fall and fractured my elbow and arm. I spent Holy Week in pain and missed the special services. I am still in a sling waiting for healing with the hope of avoiding a surgical intervention. I cannot drive and have learned how to dictate since I cannot type. I continue to pray and wonder what I am to learn from this experience. My world has become very small having only the use of one arm. I miss my field trips to the beach and forests.
On Easter Day, I was determined to bring nature and a symbol of resurrection into my home. In some Christian churches baptismal fonts are drained and baptisms are not performed during Lent. On the night before Easter Day, at the Vigil, water is the centerpiece of the first celebration of the Easter Eucharist. The font is filled again with an invitation to people to remember their own baptisms and renew their covenant with God and the church.
On my home altar for this season of Easter, I am keeping a bowl of water there to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, the renewal of the Earth and my own resurrection in the new life of the Spirit. I have a morning and evening ritual when I dip my fingers into the water and make a sign of the cross with my wet fingers on my forehead and say these words, “Remember who you are. You are marked as Christ’s own forever.”
My bowl of water not only reminds me of the water of baptism but also of the water of life. My bowl of water is the font of the Christian Church but also the well of life for all people. It is a solemn reminder to me to visit my own well within, daily, that place where the Holy Spirit is always welling up inside all of us, calling us to drink from the living waters.
As Jesus cried out, “Let everyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me, drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.’” (John 7:37,38)
They say that April showers bring May flowers. May is just days away and spring seems to have sprung and shaken off the grip of winter. Blooms and greening finally illustrate the Earth’s season of renewal. The landscape of my wintry heart is continuing to thaw and green.
My passage through this challenging early spring has been guided by God the Creator, by spring’s unique rhythms and by the elements of wind and water. It continues to prepare me to experience God’s promise of meeting the Risen Christ and to embrace my own personal resurrection. Alleluia!
Beneath the tree, purple plum
leaves pool; beauty’s farewell to
a season well spent.
–EHB
It’s here! Christine Sine’s new book is now ready for purchase! Journey along with Christine as she walks you through contemplative container gardening. Reviews are coming in:
“Digging Deeper is a beautiful companion for anyone who is looking for a mindful and sacred way of connecting their bodies to their souls, and their prayers to actions. All you need is a bowl, some dirt, this lovely book, and the desire to slow down and dig deep. – Jerusalem Jackson Greer, author of At Home in this Life: Finding Peace at the Crossroads of Unraveled Dreams and Beautiful Surprises”
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