Jahren writes, “By playing this long game, the trees ultimately turned the tide of the war. . . . . Trees aren’t people and they don’t have feelings. For us. They don’t care about us. But maybe they care about each other. Maybe during a crisis the trees take care of each other." *
I like thinking the trees aren’t paying any mind to me. The woods out my back window are having spring whether or not I go look and see. The May Apples will tent open and the tiny ferns uncurl like baby fingers as faithfully as ducks waddle to the water. No one need stand over them threatening a demerit. They just do what they are designed to do by virtue of their genetic code. Only people defect from our own design and to our own demise. We are terrible at each minding our own business before stirring up our neighbors’. We want more than we need. We go too far. We take too much. Then we leave too much damage in our wake. Rather than warning one another of dangers on the way, we are the danger – but helpless to get out of one another’s way. A walk in the woods does a human good, gives perspective on how life might be if we each stayed in our own lane more often than not. Minded the little business of the one little life we have been given, straying sideways now and then when help is called for, like the Sitka willow trees. *A.H.Jahren, Lab Girl, New York: Knopf, 2016, p.185 **Read about Sitka willow trees at http://web.pdx.edu/~maserj/ESR410/Salixsitchensis.html
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A prayer from Thomas à Kempis: O God, strengthen me by the grace of your Holy Spirit. Make firm within me my efforts to be holy; empty my heart of all unnecessary worry and anxiety, and do not let it be carried away by the desire of anything whatsoever, whether with the having or otherwise. Make me see that all things are passing away, and that I, too, must one day follow them; for there is nothing beneath the sun that lasts forever, and everything here is but frustration and lost labor, all of it. . . .” ~ from Book III, The Imitation of Christ While I beg to differ with Brother Thomas on his last line, the rest of his prayer rings true to me. All things pass away, the gentle and the worst, and someday I will too. At age thirty those words would have worried me but at fifty-four they are simple, plain and comforting. Each moment contains what news it must and we take it in as best we can, moving forward in the faith that God has all things in hand. Our resistance and complaining only tangle us in the current, taking both our footing and our breath. Knowing I will also pass from this life makes my time here precious all the more, for the people and the beauty of every place and season. As all things are passing away, I might learn to hold them gently, whether in my hands or in my thoughts. To treat the good and lovely parts as sacred and be glad I was allowed to know them. To endure the hard and hateful parts, if only for the lessons left behind. Brother Thomas is welcome to his view of things, but I can’t concede that everything here is but frustration and lost labor. Too much is beautiful and kindly and full of joy and hope. Labor spent in love for neighbor and justice for the stranger surely aren’t lost, even if we can’t see the whole harvest of the work. In every case, I am glad to share this life and work with you. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette
Snow clings here and there. Severe thunderstorms are forecast for this afternoon. Yet behind, beside, and pushing up from beneath it all, I can see and smell and feel the spring refusing to be held back. This is her time and she will come, whatever winter has left to do. The daffodils are blooming. Tulip blades are lush, and the strawberry plants are now through the ground. Lilac and blackberry bushes are budding. But best of all are the winter roses (hellebores) I uncovered Saturday. They are my earliest flowers, in full bloom long before the daffodils, but always with their necks bent, faces to the ground like shy girls at a dance. My front bed is their Mount Everest. They need late winter’s harshness and do not thrive on a table in a vase. I fancy the faith it takes to leave the darkness below the ground and push up through ice and snow. To know such courage is the stuff of which our faith in God is made; to stand when the world would have us buckle and break; to bend and wait; to draw strength from air and light and beauty of this precious, perfect day. Whatever else it brings, the spring is also here and with it another day of life with each other and with God who loves us so. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette |
I write a Tuesday morning devotional to members and friends of UBC. It is also posted here.
Enjoy! Pastor Annette Copyright
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