guest post and photos by Elaine Breckenridge,
Recently, my husband and I had a very unpleasant encounter with our next-door neighbor over the issue of her barking dog. When left home alone, the dog will bark for hours on end. We wanted to offer our concern for the animal and to share that it was difficult for us. She told us “To mind our own business.” She was abrupt and rude. As we left, I said to my husband, “We need to have compassion for her. She must be an angry and lonely person.” About an hour later, I was anxious and depressed. As I tuned into myself, I realized that the event had left me feeling fearful and powerless. Clearly, this meeting with our neighbor was a catalyst for me to experience unresolved issues from my past.
With that in mind, I got into the car and drove to a nearby nature preserve to walk and to visit one of my favorite trees. Once parked, as I started walking down the path, I prayed that I might be open to receive whatever nature might have to offer me in that moment. Imagine my shock as I approached my tree finding it in a terrible state. One of its huge limbs had been stripped away from its trunk, leaving behind a shocking gash.
After my initial shock, my tears began to flow. Hot tears. How could this be? I found myself speaking to the tree, “I see you. I feel for you. I am sorry for your pain.” Later, I realized I was also speaking to myself, recognizing my own buried pain evoked by the encounter with our neighbor.
But at that moment, as I stood there, I realized that the tree was calm and steady and actually reaching out to me. I had a witness as I released and let go of a layer of pain that I had carried, but, ignored for years. I experienced that the tree was seeing me and was present to me. I was grateful.
In a book called, Forest Bathing by Cyndi Gilbert, she writes, quoting May Sarton, “I think of the trees and how simply they let go, let fall the riches of a season, how without grief (it seems) they can let go and go deep into their roots for renewal and sleep… Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”
Let it go. Some of us leave childhood with wounds. Others of us experience tremendous losses later in life. Being human is to encounter and experience pain. However, I like the saying, “Pain is inevitable but suffering is not.” Clinging, grasping, holding on, or burying emotions actually intensifies our feelings of fear, anger, sadness, pain. The alternative is to let go. But how do we do that? What spiritual practices can we adopt to help us let go?
Imitating the trees is one example. In Forest Bathing, the author recommends sitting with a tree (especially in the season of autumn) and imagining whatever it is we want to release as one leaf. Imagine the leaf falling to the ground. Say good-bye. As it lands on the ground, imagine it decomposing and providing new energy for the soil. Say goodbye again.
“Autumn is a season that invites us to let go… yes to yield… yes, to die. We are encouraged to let things move in our lives. Let them flow on into some new life form just as the earth is modeling these changes for us.”- The Circle of Life by Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiedecker
A friend of mine created her own ritual after the accidental death of her twenty-two-year-old son. She went to a sandy beach on the ocean. She laid on the sand and let the waves caress her body and she imagined her sorrow going out with the tide. She said she felt emptied, dying, and came out of the ocean like a new woman. She said she had to die as a mother and be born again as a childless woman. Since then, she has developed a resilience to live alone and her career as a kindergarten teacher and dancer is bringing her great joy.
Her grief and pain were transformed. “When we discover that we don’t need to be afraid of our pain, that we can stand witness and bear it, we release a tremendous amount of energy for living.” (Earth, Our Original Monastery by Christine Valters Paintner).
I have been visiting this favorite tree frequently. The limb that was torn from the trunk appears to be diseased. I wonder if the tree is standing taller without the burden of that weight? Looking at the tree from another angle, one can’t help but notice its wound is in the shape of a heart. In my recent journey, I am feeling lighter and more open to life as it unfolds. The tree encouraged me to let go of a dis-eased part of myself. There has been a measure of healing for me, flowing, I believe from the tree’s broken heart.
Maple Tree Heart
Letting go is realizing that it does not mean falling into an abyss or into nothingness. We fall into grace, into the divine mystery, into the compassionate arms of God. Ultimately, we let go to fall into divine love which in turn transforms us.
Questions for Reflection
- What spiritual practices have you used to help you let go of grief and pain?
- How has nature helped you in identifying wounds and guide you into healing?
Bio for Elaine
The Rev. Elaine H. Breckenridge is a recently retired Episcopal priest residing on Camano Island, Washington. She is enjoying nature, caring for two grandsons, taking online classes, and enjoying experimenting with photography.
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by Lilly Lewin,
READ this week’s gospel reading from Mark 7:31-37
Jesus Heals a Deaf and Mute Man… MARK 7:31-37 NIV
31 Then Jesus left the vicinity of Tyre and went through Sidon, down to the Sea of Galilee and into the region of the Decapolis 32 There some people brought to him a man who was deaf and could hardly talk, and they begged Jesus to place his hand on him.
33 After he took him aside, away from the crowd, Jesus put his fingers into the man’s ears. Then he spit and touched the man’s tongue. 34 He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, “Ephphatha!” (which means “Be opened!”). 35 At this, the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly.
36 Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone. But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it. 37 People were overwhelmed with amazement. “He has done everything well,” they said. “He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”
Who do you need to bring to Jesus to be healed today? Friends, family, enemies, yourself? Take time to pray for these people.
What in you do you need Jesus to heal? Talk to him about these things.
How have you felt deaf recently? Talk to Jesus about this.
What are some of the things Jesus has “done well” in your life lately? Take time to be grateful.
Jesus, like this man we need our ears opened…
Help us to hear.
Help us to hear your voice.
Help us to hear you above all the chaos of this world.
Help us to get away from the crowd and confusion and receive your healing love.
Help us to listen to your words and know that we are loved and cherished right where we are.
Heal us Lord. AMEN
©lillylewin and freerangeworship.com
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by Laurie Klein,
World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation
Everything is interconnected,
and genuine care for our own lives
and our relationships with nature
is inseparable
from fraternity, justice, and faithfulness to others.
—Pope Francis, “Laudato Si,” or “Praised Be”
FIVE SEMI-WILD ACRES. Three spirited decades spent exploring them—garden and meadow, wetlands, and woods. Over time, a poem arose:
How to Live Like a Backyard Psalmist
Wear shoes with soles like meringue
and moon-blue stitching so that
every day, for at least ten minutes,
you feel ten years old.
Befriend what crawls, tunnels,
flits, and spawns . . .
Drink rain—hatless, laughing.
Sit on your heels before anything plush
or vaguely kinetic, like
hazel-green kneelers of moss
waving their little parcels
of spores, on hair-trigger stems.
Ponder the strange,
the charged, the dangerous:
lightning on stilts, stalking horizons;
Orion’s owl, cruising
at dusk. Note every blight
and bloom: now, igniting
the sandalwood candle,
gather each strand of the day
and the blue pen, like a needle.
Suture what you can.*
________
But how do I even begin to mend this bountiful, wounded world lurching toward chaos?
I’ve had to start small, with my own backyard, learn names for what lives here, notice what threatens growth. Noxious weeds can be pulled, each stooping bow a potential posture for prayer. Diseased trees can be pruned, or removed with care.
Sometimes the upkeep gets me down. Where would I be without God’s drop-ins? Each speaks its own language. All are eloquent.
- A scruffy deer with delicate lips beheads my tulips.
- Quail romp and bobble beneath the silvery arc of the sprinkler.
- Kamikaze moths barnstorm my lamplit screens at dusk.
Purely present, uniquely themselves, each seems a psalmist. Are creaturely hymns intrinsic? Perhaps they are saying: “Feast often; play more; follow the light.”
I Googled “Fun facts about deer,” then quail, then hummingbird moths. Curiosity invites further discovery, which evokes marvel, then gratitude. Affection ensues.
We protect what we cherish.
Still, I remain wary of wild things and keep my distance. Dare I trust them? And what makes me think they will tolerate my approach? Traits of both lion and lamb conflict my thinking. I want to be admired and rule my turf: I also want to meekly conform, sheep-like—unwilling to lead.
To what extent does the long-promised, peaceable kingdom begin within the human heart?
Enter the porcupine. Formidable spines backlit, it lumbers across the field, spiky tail sashaying. I tiptoe behind it at first, then, enchanted, right alongside. Our gazes lock. The space between us feels charged with wonder. Later, I learn the young are called porcupettes. A group is known as a prickle. And no, they don’t shoot their quills.
O what a quirky, lovable, intricate world!
- An insouciant moose high-steps my fence.
- Someone’s raucous, runaway peacocks, tails at half-mast, crisscross the drive.
- A snake the color of giblets oozes across my kitchen floor.
I sense unspoken invitations: “Stretch your limits; sing, however you can; brave the unexpected.”
A Jewish phrase, tikkun olam, inspires me: “mend the world each day.” The more I learn and observe, the greater my resolve to serve and conserve. The creatures are becoming my mentors.
Cherishing my own backyard widens my view.
Fellow psalmists, will you join me on this World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation?
Source and Sustainer of Life—wild and tame, alive and inert—you bowl us over with Beauty! Thank you for skies hosting light shows, cloudscapes, insects, and birds; seas teeming with countless enigmas; subterranean strata cradling gems, minerals, and ore; terrain bristling with vegetation.
The world you delight in offers us clothing, nourishment, guidance and rescue, income, companionship, medicine, rest, wisdom and opportunity, recreation and so much more.
Thank you for creatures entrusted to our personal care. We lift them before you now . . .
You have interwoven our lives with myriad mysteries. Forgive our indifference. Our laziness. Our occasional greed. Guide our lifestyle choices toward safeguarding fragile habitats.
For the endangered and wantonly sullied: Lord, help us foster rejuvenation.
Amid rising temperatures and dwindling populations, erratic weather, and pervasive ruin: grant us creative means to effect change.
Help us tend and defend the natural world with savvy compassion. With practical hope. With humor and grateful awe.
Dear Maker and Master of all that lives, may your creation-in-waiting once again thrive. May each aspect—along with our efforts—be graced by your wise, redemptive, transfiguring love. Amen.
***
Perhaps every life, fully awakened, can become a healing psalm.
Meander outdoors. What draws your attention? Can a tree or a brook or a stone be a psalmist? What about you? This week, how might you eavesdrop on naturally embodied praise?
- Branch out from your own backyard. Take a virtual stroll through the fabulous Lehman Caves here.
- Immerse in undersea marvels below.
- Fall in love with God’s creatures via these compelling meditations for Advent and Lent, written by Gayle Boss, All Creation Waits.
- Wild Hope: Stories for the Vanishing—extraordinary “collaborations of hope” between humans and endangered species.
- Glimpse the peaceable kingdom as animals rescue one another here.
- Read and celebrate Earth: Our Original Monastery, by Christine Valters-Paintner.
- For the history of the World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation and further resources visit here.
- Read more excerpts from “Laudato Si,” by Pope Francis.
- Peaceable kingdom trailer here:
*“How to Live Like a Backyard Psalmist” first appeared in Where the Sky Opens, by Laurie Klein (Poeima/Cascade). https://wipfandstock.com/9781498230902/where-the-sky-opens/
Porcupine image by analogicus from Pixabay
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post and photos by June Friesen,
1-3 Open your ears, God, to my prayer; don’t pretend you don’t hear me knocking.
Come close and whisper your answer. I really need you.
I shudder at the mean voice, quail before the evil eye,
As they pile on the guilt, stockpile angry slander.4-8 My insides are turned inside out; specters of death have me down.
I shake with fear, I shudder from head to foot.
“Who will give me wings,” I ask—“wings like a dove?”
Get me out of here on dove wings;
I want some peace and quiet.
I want a walk in the country,
I want a cabin in the woods.
I’m desperate for a change
from rage and stormy weather.
What is happening around me? What is happening is so out of control, or at least it is out of ‘my control’. Do you feel like the writer of these verses in the Psalm? Maybe you feel as if when you pray it is nothing more than words into empty space. Maybe you feel as if you have been alienated – from family, friends, neighbors, church family, etc. over the past 19 or so months. It may have been because of COVID restrictions. It may be because of travel restrictions or limits. It may be because of misunderstandings and/or disagreements. Whatever the reason(s), whatever the cause for the change(s) you feel and/or are experiencing, they are real to you even if they are not to be understood, acknowledged, or recognized by others around you.
In this Psalm, I find it interesting that the writer asks to have wings to flee from the situation he is facing. But not only does he ask for wings, he specifically asks for the wings of a dove. A dove is a symbol of peace.
by June Friesen
I have loved doves since I was a child. I probably really fell in love with a pair that chose to build a nest that was at my eye level when I was about 13 years old. The pine tree they chose was on the path in the country to our mailbox. Since I was often asked to go and get the mail, I had the opportunity to observe this pair over several years. The nest was rather flimsy it seemed to me and I wondered at how it could/would hold the eggs. Yet it never failed and every year (doves often return to the same nest) this pair of doves raised a family there. I was privileged to see the eggs arrive one by one. I was privileged to see them hatch one by one and then grow from fuzz to feathers… and eventually, take wing. It was such a miracle to observe – and when I think of God’s Spirit as being similar to a dove this memory comforts me even today.
I may feel that the world is rather a rough place to live. In fact, there are times when I feel that way and I feel or even fear my faith in God is rather flimsy and I wonder if it will fail to hold me. It is then that I can think of this example of the nest – it is all about trust. Can I or will I put my trust in God, even if it seems flimsy at best, and leave the rest up to God? Will I keep my trust in God secure even when my trust struggles here where I find myself on earth? Yes, life has been turned upside down for sure over the past year and a half. Recently I came across this writing from six years ago. I do not remember what was going on in my life at the time but the words say exactly how I have felt and still feel at times recently. Maybe you can relate:
LIFE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
I cannot share with you –
I cannot answer you –
I cannot understand this mystery –
I cannot find the words to speak –
I cannot believe this is reality –
I cannot speak – only silence comes.
I wonder where life went wrong –
I wonder when God went into hiding –
I wonder how one can walk through so much loss –
I wonder at the intensity of this pain –
I wonder when the nightmare will end, if ever –
I wonder where real living begins and where it ends.
God – sometimes in the struggles it seems you are so quiet,
Sometimes it seems every cloud brings another storm,
Sometimes it seems as if every person is an enemy,
Sometimes it seems that the hope promised is out of reach,
Sometimes life is anything but what one was promised when younger,
Sometimes, God, one just has to wonder and ponder and……
God – is it okay that I sit with you quietly too?
I have no words so I am just going to ‘be’ in your presence,
I just hurt so much I know not what to say to you or anyone else for that matter.
I just need to ‘be’ and reflect on all that was and all that is now –
Thank you, God, for your silent presence.
Thank you, friends, for your silent presence – God is here.
(Friesen 2015)
God is here…….thank you God for being here…….help me to remain here with You God even in the silence. Amen.
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post by Rev. Brenda Griffin Warren,
St. Aidan of Lindisfarne sculpted by Kathleen Parbury, 1958, red concrete on granite base, located on St. Mary’s Church grounds, Lindisfarne.
Died August 31, 651AD
Preach the Gospel at all times and use words if necessary
How do we share the Gospel of Jesus the Christ if we don’t speak the language or we don’t easily meld into the society to which we have been planted by the Spirit? Perhaps we can take a clue from St. Aidan’s life that resembled the later St. Francis of Assisi’s admonition to Christians, “preach the Gospel at all times and use words if necessary.”
We know about St. Aidan from The Venerable Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, Book III in which he praised Aidan for his learning, charity, and simplicity of life. St. Aidan was a 7thc. Irish monk/Bishop, born in Ireland who established a famous Celtic-style monastery on the beautiful and sacred isle of Lindisfarne (also called Holy Island). This tidal isle, in the area of Northumbria in northeastern England, is known as a “thin place” where heaven and earth seem to be only separated by a thin, almost gossamer veil. Many of the early cherished Celtic and Anglo-Saxon saints had significant connections to Lindisfarne including St. Cuthbert, St. Hilda of Whitby, and Bishop Eadfrith who hand wrote and illuminated the magnificent Lindisfarne Gospels.
Some scholars believe Aidan was raised, educated, baptized, and later served as a Bishop on the tiny, yet historic monastic island of Iona that was founded by St. Columba. Iona is in the area known as the Inner Hebrides on the southwest coast of Scotland. Other scholars propose that Aidan came from the great Irish monastic foundation of Inish Craig (later called Scattery Island) founded by St. Senan and afterwards Aidan joined the monastic community on the isle of Iona. Later, he journeyed on to Lindisfarne where he established a monastic community and became the first Bishop on this holy isle.
As Lindisfarne is a tidal island that is cut off twice a day by water, it was a good fit for Aidan. It was far enough away for some quietness and solitude and yet, it was also close enough to the Christian King Oswald’s palace in Bamburgh in Northumbria. Irish-born Aidan had a problem though. He agonized over not being able to communicate with his Northumbrian neighbors as Aidan could not speak nor understand the British tongue. The problem was solved by King Oswald who was fluent not only in the British language but also in Gaelic. Since King Oswald had learned Gaelic from his childhood years of exile among the Irish, he was able to translate as Aidan preached the milk of the Gospel of God’s love to the people in the area. Aidan would also often leave Lindisfarne and travel into the local villages showing them God’s love and care firsthand.
Lindisfarne shone as a beacon of light throughout England and Bishop Aidan became known as the “Apostle to the English.” Even though this saint struggled with the language of the Northumbrians, the local Celts and Anglo-Saxons saw Aidan’s life of simplicity, good works, and faith and they knew that they could trust what this man was telling them about God and His Son, Jesus the Christ. His life lived out “preach the Gospel at all times and use words if necessary.”
May each of our lives do the same.
Free Download by Carol Dixon for St. Aidan’s Day
Longing for Lindisfarne: Daily Reflections for the Week of St. Aidan’s Day
by Christine Sine,
Today, I feel an apology is in order. Over the last few months, I allowed my focus to be captivated by the series of illnesses that drained my energy, kept me out of the garden, away from my awe and wonder walks, and grumbling at my restrictions. The awe and wonder that usually pervades my life deserted me. Not surprising you might think, but definitely not impressive.
This week a few things happened to change all that. It started with a quote by Mo Thomas in the Facebook group Living in the Spirit. “When awe becomes a regular occurrence in our theology, the discipline of rigourous study becomes a journey of joyful discovery rather than a burdened obligation.” Wow – theology through the lens of awe. That sounds revolutionary to me.
Do you see the pattern here? People crave awe and wonder. What if I made awe and wonder the lens through which I view all things? At first, I dismissed the idea as absurd. Then I was asked to write an article on wonder for an Advent devotional and also received an invite to facilitate a workshop on wonder in December and another series of workshops early in 2022. I also worked on some thoughts for our upcoming virtual retreat Gearing Up for A Season of Gratitude reminding myself that at the heart of my experience of gratitude is awe and wonder. In case I didn’t get the message, someone sent me an article entitled Why You Need to Protect Your Sense of Wonder – Especially Now. The author proclaims: “Helping participants to explore, experience, and recall moments of awe is one of the key scientifically supported strategies we engage in during our workshops and it’s been rewarding to see our participants benefit and bring what they’ve learned to their own organizations.”
Awe and wonder suddenly burst forth all around me and I thought maybe I need to take this idea of awe and wonder as the lens through which I view all things seriously. So I asked myself, Where else have I missed the awe and wonder that should pervade my life because I was focused on my aches and pains rather than the wonder of God’s world around me?
I decided to take a virtual awe and wonder walk through my life.
A pause for prayer and what came to my mind is the local Buy Nothing group I belong to. An unexpected place to start but certainly worthy of awe and wonder. The generosity of people in our neighbourhood is astounding. People give away furniture and TVs and computers as well as almost expired groceries and other produce. It inspired me to give away items I would once have tried to sell – like a beautiful old antique dresser and the 50 tomato plants that got mislabelled this year. Today I was awed by the offer of a creative party plan with a Harry Potter theme. I was so tempted even though I don’t have kids or grandkids. The generosity of our neighbourhood amazes me in other ways too. The August ice cream social with free Häagen-Dazs ice cream as well as treats from many of the local businesses. Games for the kids and music for all of us completed the evening – such a wonderful way to strengthen bonds in the neighbourhood.
Another pause and I remembered the huge worldwide network of friends I enjoy, many of whom have been friends for 40 or 50 years. My closest friend has even invited me and another friend into her family as second and third mothers for her sons and aunties for her grandchildren. Wow, wow, and wow. That is truly awe-inspiring.
Then there is my husband Tom. Almost 30 years married and still growing closer every year. And around both of us is the small intentional community that helped sustain us through the midst of the pandemic and continues to support us in the busyness of life. One awe-inspiring aspect of our lives is the hospitality we offer, first to each other and then to friends. Over the summer we held a few small gatherings that enriched us with the delight of conversation over a meal or a cup of coffee. Hospitality is an awe-inspiring expression of life and of our faith. Think of the many times in the Old and New Testament that the joy of life was expressed through hospitality, or even more awe-inspiring when new theological truths were revealed around the table.
Lastly, I look at the everyday details of my life and remind myself of how fortunate I am. As my fingers speed across the keyboard, I am awed by the dexterity of these small digits. I look at a stack of my prayer cards and am awed by the continuing creativity with which God blesses me and I think of the community that supports my endeavours – from my assistant, Lisa, to the growing list of writers from around the world whose contributions to Godspace constantly inspire and fill me with awe even though it is easy to take them for granted. Wow, wow, wow. So much to be awed by, and I have not mentioned my neighbourhood awe and wonder walk which is once more a part of my daily exercise.
Awe and wonder are all around us. It really should be the lens through which we view all things. All we need to do is stop and notice. Perhaps what we all need is awe and wonder pauses throughout the day. Perhaps rather than a gratitude practice at night, a virtual awe and wonder walk is called for. I am sure it will decrease my stress and probably create the resilience I so desire in my life.
What about you? Consider stopping for a virtual awe and wonder walk through your life.
Sit quietly and take a few deep breaths in and out. What comes to your mind as an unexpected area of awe and wonder? Allow your thoughts to explore it and relish the joy and delight it inspires. Pause and allow your thoughts to wander to the next place of awe and wonder God inspires you with. Perhaps you would like to write these down or like me just sit in the glow of these recollections.
Want to experience more of the awe and wonder that God offers us? Check out the Gift of Wonder Online Retreat by Christine Sine. This retreat allows for 180 days of access for only $39.99 so you can move through the sessions at your own pace.
A contemplative service with music in the spirit of Taize. Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.
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:
“Lord Be With Us (Kyrie)” is an original compositions by Kester Limner, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY).
“Veni Sancte Spiritus,” “Aber du Weisst” and “Da Pacem Cordium” are songs from the ecumenical Taize community in France. Copyright and all rights reserved by GIA/Les Presses de Taizé.
“Deep Peace (Celtic Blessing)” is based upon a traditional Celtic text, adapted by Ray Makeover. Text and music copyright 2009 Ray Makeover, Augsburg Fortress. All rights reserved.
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