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Beloved:
Most all the leaves are down now. On sunny mornings light glints off the the cars in the junkyard beyond our woods. But not today. The woods are wet and the scent of summer’s decay is strong. The house cat and the puppy are both complaining mightily. Simba because it’s raining outside every door I open for him. Scout because I won’t let her out at all. The cat cleans up before coming back inside. Scout just muddies up the floors and furniture. You’d think I beat her the way she’s crying. Ignoring them to soak in the perfection of this hour takes more effort than it ought. I want to note the newness of fall, how the rain is different when the leaves are down, softer and more distant. Instead of swishy and full, the wind sounds creaky and slow. I fail. Scout is driving me crazy so I let her onto the deck. She’ll be soaked but not muddy unless she digs in my flower pots again. Then I’ll hose her down and shut her in the laundry room for the day. I need to remember this is her first autumn. The leaves and the smell are brand new to her. By the time I start another sentence she wants back inside. Now she’s rubbing herself dry on the rug. I sigh and try again to focus long enough to recall what every teacher chides, that spiritual formation happens in the interruptions. Specifically in how we manage the interruptions and with what attitude and spirit we regard those forces pulling the edges of our attention. How tempted I am to give up and give in, to go through the motions of the day never reflecting on the meaning of anything. Scout’s small brain and inexperience leaves her surprised that rain makes her so wet and cold. I can be annoyed or entertained, and reminded that the rain is soaking not only my floors but the earth. For which I am blessed and nourished. My coffee is cold and it’s past time to move into this day. It won’t go as planned I’m sure. I hope I remember to be grateful for that. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette
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Friends - I've fallen out of my Tuesday writing habit in recent weeks and am confident I'll recover soon. You are nevertheless on my heart, in my mind and forever included in my prayers. While I've little spiritual food to share today, here's a recipe I made up from reading online, adjusting for what was available in my pantry. It was so full of flavor and satisfying. Adjust accordingly for you pantry and I know you'll love it. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette
Steak Soup Recipe ~ Annette H. Briggs October 2014
Add flour, paprika, salt, pepper to coat. Pour in stock, wine, water, celery leaves, parsley and bay leaf. Simmer 1 hour. Add vegetables and simmer another 45 minutes. Add tomato paste, simmer 15 more. 6-8 servings. originally posted October 16, 2012
Beloved, In spiritual life, thin places refers to moments when the curtain between the present and eternal realms seems very thin, transparent even. Birthing rooms are thin places, and dying rooms too. Thin places expose unexpected glimpses of beauty and tragedy. When the veil falls away I am struck silent with the vastness of it all; vast beauty, vast sadness, vast injustice, vast pain, vast hope, vast loss, vast love, vast peace, vast hunger, vast joy, vast complacency, vastness itself. For that split second, gone before we know we saw it, the absence of the veil reveals what we otherwise know only by faith ~ that God is below and above, surrounding and enveloping all that vastness. Such recall comes more easily in the beautiful than in the broken places. Maybe it’s all these falling leaves and flowers dying back that has me so melancholy this morning. As their life force retreats for winter’s rest, mine also seeks respite and struggles to take my leave with confidence in the goodness of darkness, rest and quiet. Conceiving winter as a thin place is a thought less joyfully borne in me than, say, my garden in full bloom or an ancient Celtic holy site. Retreat and surrender are so easily confused with failure. Confusion gives way to frustration and frustration leaves me tired, terribly tired. “Rest,” says the Creator in the sight, sound and scent of Creation itself, “now is the time to rest.” The trees neither resist nor grieve the present season, but do again as they are told, dropping leaves as vigorously as they bloomed some months ago, with utter trust in winter’s goodness and the spring to come again. ~ peace and 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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