America, the Beautiful

There's a particular kind of nostalgia that comes with celebrating the semiquincentennial (say that three times fast) of the United States when you're among those who remember the bicentennial like it was yesterday. Who possess a bicentennial quarter and realize it's fifty years old, and it still feels freshly minted. 

I'm struggling to assign my reflective mood a better name than "How Did I Get So Old?" Or "How has my one little lifetime spanned over twenty percent of the life of my country?" Or "Why did bicentennial roll off your tongue so easily and the word for 250 seems so complicated?" 

Since I'm in the camp of those who remember where I was fifty years ago, I'm offering my memory, aided by the sweetest keepsake my sister ever gave me, because she was my counselor at camp that 4th of July--Young Life's Castaway to be exact. It was monumental because I got up the courage to fly, literally and figuratively--it's when I consciously placed my life in God's hands. I am eternally grateful.

I love the prayer poem she included by Rev. Herb Brokering.  It's how I'm celebrating today. By appreciating the incredible experience of life I've enjoyed in this country, and thanking God for all who have made it possible. By trusting Him with where we are, and where we're going.  By praying that he might make one out of the beautiful many. By offering myself toward that end. 

Happy 250th Birthday, America!!!

Lost

I lost my husband today. 

 

Or maybe he lost me, it's hard to say for sure. 

 

 

It happened on the walking trail along the river near our home. The Jazzy Trail, no less. 

 

In April, we moved from the thawing Minnesota tundra straight into the summer furnace of North Carolina, like crazy people. I'm far from acclimated to walking in the early morning sun, starting at 76º and rising several degrees as we go. I can better withstand 6º, because, you know, you can always put more clothes on. The past few weeks, we've been coping by taking all the clothes off we possibly can (without making it terribly uncomfortable for others), and hitting the pool for our daily dose of exercise.

So imagine my delight to wake this morning to a cloudy sky and a cool breeze that offered a legitimate chance to enjoy the scenery along the river bank. I grabbed my husband and my camera, and we headed out.

As usual, Lee was entertaining himself with little public service projects along on our walks, while the camera in my hand propelled me forward on a treasure hunt.  We had agreed to walk as far as the kayak landing, maybe a mile from the trailhead.

In my head "the kayak landing" included the mimosa tree just beyond the kayaks, and the place on the river right after that, where the waterfowl fish for breakfast.  Obviously.

The problem in that area is that there are a lot of visual barriers, and Lee never caught up with me. By the time we were really looking for each other, we might as well have been on opposite ends of a crowded grocery store.  We would have found each other much sooner.  

As I searched for Lee, I was thinking of that time in the gospel of Luke when Jesus's parents lost track of him on their journey back home from the Passover Feast in Jerusalem.  Jesus had gotten intently focused on conversations about the Torah with the teachers at the temple, and missed the departure.  He seemed genuinely surprised that they didn't know exactly where to find him, as they understood his preoccupation.  (Have you ever noticed when they found him? On the third day. It's kind of a thing in the Bible.)

Lee understands my preoccupation with beauty, and he wasn't the least bit exasperated when our paths finally rejoined this morning.  I'm so glad we found each other.  He's a keeper.

Also? I'm thankful that seeking beauty in creation points me right back into noticing the presence of the God who made it all.  It's easy in this noisy world to lose sight of who he is, but he loves to surprise us with his kindness if we'll keep looking until we find him.  He made me--I'd be lost without him.

The World Beyond

"Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it." Genesis 28:16

Just beyond what we can see

 lies a breathtaking world that is altogether real.  

It's not far.  It's right here.

It's not that it's imperceptible--

it's just that we don't see it, 

we won't see it, 

if we carry on as usual.

It may be under the surface, around the corner. 
Above our heads, beneath our feet. 
Visible from behind us if we would slow down and turn around for a minute.  

Possibly right there on the kitchen table. 
Or in the eyes of the person coming towards us in the grocery aisle.

The light on the details is an invitation to delight.  
What does the Light want to show you?

"Earth's crammed with heaven, 

and every common bush afire with God, 

but only he who sees

takes off his shoes."

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning~

"Take off your shoes, for you are standing on holy ground." Exodus 3:5

Whatever is True

It's been a disorienting week, to say the least, here in Minnesota.  Thousands of federal ICE agents have been deployed here, and it's a pressure cooker.  I've been trying to process it all, to find some clarity.  I admit, when I see people in power abusing the vulnerable it makes my blood boil, but there are so many conflicting issues in our situation that my head is spinning.

I looked out my window yesterday to see snowflakes flying in every direction.  They mirrored my inner world.  It looked like the temperature was helping the flakes hold their shape, so I decided to grab my camera and take a closer look.  I was not disappointed.  

Some were quite clear.  Others had frost attached to them, crystal upon crystal.  Some were in clumps, indistinguishable from one another. I took some photos even as the wind was whisking them away, amazed as I always am by what lies beyond what I can see--whether too small, too big, too far.  Sometimes things lie beyond my vision due to my lack of imagination and attention.  They are there whether I notice or not.

I returned to the warmth inside to see if any of my photos had done the flakes justice.  They're not perfect, but they demonstrate why it's worth taking a closer look at the snow.

After all of the news I've taken in, and conversations I've had this week, it all comes down to one thing. We were placed on this earth to take care of it, to take care of each other.  It's our calling, and our opportunity to live as God's partners on this earth.  Author Brad Montague says, "Whatever we pay attention to grows."  That's our calling--to look for beauty, to shine a light on it, to nurture it and to watch it grow.  When we focus on the right things, everything else falls away into the background.  

So after a week of subjecting myself to a lot of information--but also participating in a lot of helpful conversations that challenged my point of view and also encouraged me--I'm choosing to focus on what is beautiful.  If I look closely, it reminds me that there is so much more, just beyond view.

Praying for peace in this beautiful world God made.

Juxtaposed

If you want to grow a garden, you'd ideally pick a place with fertile soil and room for roots to grow deep. But flowers can also grow on a rocky precipice among the links of old iron chains. These did. 

Sometimes the truth is held in tension.

Two things can be true at once, even if they seem like a contradiction.

I think about this often when I hear the same tired old binary thinking that comes out of the news and conversations around me. I've been pondering what it means to dwell in Eden. I'm drawn easily to the breathtaking beauty of God's creation--I marvel at the sacred trust of cultivating this garden globe. But I am constantly reminded by current events about the ugliness and devastation that also plagues it.

Still I linger in the beauty, leaning in closer to draw in its strength. I don't want to be the kind of person who glosses over the struggles of the people beside her, who looks away from suffering, who offers platitudes instead of a hand. 

Dwelling in Eden reminds me where we came from, where we're heading, and that real good is indeed happening around us as so many of the humans God made in his image actually spend untold, Spirit-filled energy reflecting his light and love into the world through their labors, their love, their art, their words, their wisdom. They are everywhere, if we have eyes to see them. They are our neighbors, our friends, our siblings, our parents, our children, our co-workers. They are people who look like us, believe like us, act like us, and also people who don't.

Dwelling in Eden reminds me that if I am willing to jump into the task of caring for this world and the people God dearly loves, I will not be alone, and it will make a difference. It will.

Broken chains always speak to me of freedom. These resilient flowers with all their beauty on display remind me what happens when we dare to be generous with the freedom we have.

Divine Delight

It's still early in the growing season. The earth seems like it has been awake just long enough to have had its morning coffee, and now it is exploding into action. I go out with my camera and actually feel a little overwhelmed. In a good way, but nevertheless, I can barely decide where to point my lens next, when to press the shutter, and where to just stop and breathe it all in.

Inhale. Exhale. Look closer.

When I do pause, I often think of God, and how he must have delighted in setting it all in motion. Sometimes I'll look at a flower and laugh at how he must have been feeling fancy, or maybe whimsical, the moment he imagined that one into being. Then I'll start pondering what it is that God actually did, and does, with regard to his creation.

The biblical account in the first two chapters of Genesis paints a breathtaking picture of God laying the foundations for life on the earth.  On days 1-3 he makes dwelling spaces for the creatures of days 4-6. He anticipates their every need, and fashions the land to meet them perfectly. He speaks to them, blesses them, and specifically invites the humans into partnership with him and each other as cultivators of life in the garden. 

The picture we see is one where humans live in harmony with the Creator, creation, and community. Abundant life and participation for all. 

Today we have a lot of scientific language to describe these processes in detail, but it can be easy to mistake describing for explaining. 

We know that horticulturists can take material from multiple plants and create new hybrids, for example, which is especially great when they take beautiful trees from other places and come up with a variety hardy enough to withstand a Minnesota winter.  (I'm looking at you, redbud and azalea!)

And then they work to nurture and care for them. Pollinators also help with this, and natural adaptations also occur--if you ask me, that's the biological reality that the literary account in Genesis is pointing to. God is the source of all the materials of this life, with all the potential for variety, and he lets us get involved. 

From where I stand, it's a combination of faith, science, and mystery, that all adds up to delight.

In this season, I'm grateful for the Eden-dwellers...

The ones who propagate, cultivate, transplant, weed, water and feed.

The artists who appreciate, capture, replicate, and transport the beauty for others to enjoy.

The children (of all ages and species) whose awe inspires laughter and reverence.

Just imagine the Creator enjoying each one's creativity and delight--and sending all of that energy out as an echo of his glory.

How sweet to enter into his Divine Delight.