Random thoughts

One of the cats is snoozing, his body expanding with each breath, his white belly of soft fur exposed.  The sound of a fan from a bedroom of a sleeping child whispers from down the hall.  Light on a timer shuts off, radio noise softens and I sit, alone with my thoughts, focusing on what has been and dream of what will be.

A message from a distant family member, updating me on my dad’s journey west, alerting me to the car trouble that makes dad think he must head back home instead of continuing to the closer destination.  Dad is convinced to continue, a promise of a car repair and a long awaited weekend keep plans in place.  This distant cousin reminds me how much I should be thankful for my dad, of how wonderful, how loved and admired Dad is.  Yes, I know. 

The gloom of a foggy day was welcomed.  I had no distractions that sometimes come with a sunny day, no pull to be anywhere but where I was, accomplishing the things I needed to do.  Peaceful, content, quiet and rested, I move toward tomorrow.

Dear God, grant perfect rest to the restless, give hope to the hopeless.  Be with us all as we find the rhythm of our breath and comfort in our heartbeats as we dip into nightly rest.  Amen.

Sunday Stroll

I heard the song of the trees as the wind rushed through, twisting and swaying the trunks like a harpist plucking at the strings of the harp.  The ghost-like wisps of white clouds hovered overhead playing with the pale glow of the day-lit moon.  The lake reflected the sun back to the sky in a silver sheen.  Golden aspen leaves quaked as I zipped my jacket up to my chin.  The ground danced with the leaping grasshoppers, warming themselves in these last moments of October sun.  This was my worship today, my hour of Sabbath, being in creation, breathing the sounds, hearing the warmth, watching the flavors, touching time with God.  The bluffs revealed your glory, O God.  Your radiance permeated the golden grasses and your song drifted through the trees, carrying birds on wing.  To you I give praise.  Amen.

Hearts in trouble

The parents of two people I know are both suffering with heart problems.  Another man I know was in yesterday for a procedure.  I would like to lift them up in prayer, with your help, as they struggle through pokes and prods and possible surgeries.  I wrote last night about heartbeats.  I knew then about these people and I neglected mention their problems.  Sometimes that's what the Holy Spirit does, redirects the message for some unknown purpose.

Dear God, be with Steve, Jan and John and many others as their hearts are listened to, their beats counted, their health needs determined and as their loved ones wait.  You have measured our beats, you have blessed us with these lives and you have place in our lives doctors and others who can help us live lives of service for one another.  Hold steady the hands of surgeons, give patience to nurses and other caregivers, nourish the patients with never-ending love.  You are the great healer.  All is in your hands.  Amen. 

The Amazing Gift

Seen/stolen from a Facebook post today:  “Your very heartbeat is the generosity of God.” --James Finley

I love hugs.  Heartbeats meld together and leap at the possibilities of life when people hug.  Petting our cats, I feel their hearts beat as they purr in contentment.  Sometimes there is a rhythmic cadence in the air, like the heartbeat of creation.  Listening to my own heart as it beats I can feel the tempo of stress, of relaxation, of excitement and other emotions.  The whoosh, whoosh of blood flowing is audible if I listen deeply.

Feel the tempo of the gift, for it is a gift:  living.  Wrap your thoughts around that concept:  your heartbeat means you are living.  Each beat represents a new moment to accept God’s generosity.

We take it for granted, hearts beating their individual rhythm, keeping pace with creation; until someone reminds us that each beat is an unconditional gift from God. 

O Creator of the Universe, you created me!  I am here, now, my heart beating, because you created me.  I listen to the rhythm, I feel the song, I rejoice in the strength as I embrace the fact that you created me.  Let me live in the knowledge of your generosity for each year, each day, each heartbeat.  You created me!  Amen.

We are never truly lost, are we?

I’m being whisked back to 2006 when Minnesota native Jonathan David Francis was mountain climbing in Idaho, lost his footing and his life.  He was lost for long time as well.  His father, David, wrote a book about their search for their beloved son called Bringing Jon Home:  The Wilderness Search for Jon Francis, and I am reading it for my Grief and Loss class.

The book is written like a diary from notes collected and organized.  It is a father’s heartfelt story of the biggest, untimely, unexpected loss in his life.  Though it is a recollection of the events, it is filled with David’s memories, regrets, wishes and desires for his faithful son.  A Stillwater native and active Episcopalian, Jon was working at a Lutheran church as a youth leader and also worked at a camp.  He had recently decided to apply to seminary.  He loved God, living in and around nature, youth and his high school sweetheart.  He was 24 years old.

His disappearance was only one part of this story.  It is also the story of law enforcement and government workers who were unwilling to try to locate Jon.  Because David was running for a seat in the Minnesota House, the “powers” in Idaho felt manipulated by the significant support, from churches, friends and government officials around the country.  They refused to allow their searchers to go off safe paths to search when it was still possible Jon was alive.  They ended the search after two days.  It seems unbelievable that so little effort would be put forth. 

Jesus tells a parable of the lost sheep.  One out of one hundred head went missing and the shepherd left the ninety nine in search of the one.  There is also the parable of the lost coin and the frantic search by the woman.  There is much rejoicing when what has been lost is found.  The Francis family was not given the chance to find their son alive let alone dead under the odd decisions made by law enforcement.  They were told to “Give your son to the mountain.”  This is not what Jesus taught. 

I’m only half way through the book, so I don’t know the whole story, yet.  But I’m reading the anguished words of a lost father in search of his lost son and it is powerful and sad.

I met David Francis a few weeks ago.  I’m hoping I can reconnect with him after I read the rest of the book to understand more of his story of his process through grief.  Waiting for months to find his son’s body, unable to provide proof of death to creditors, holding one another without tangible proof and hoping this tragedy has some kind of lesson had to be so very difficult.

As I read about the support the family received through prayer and physical presence by not only their faith community in Stillwater but the church and camp in Idaho and the Episcopal Bishop of Minnesota and beyond, I could sense that God was always in their midst.  When the mountain range turned from a beautiful place to an ugly place, God was still there.  They knew it. 

I’m not sure how I would cope under similar circumstances and I hope I never have to find out.

Dear God, there is so much hurt in this world and yet your love is felt abundantly through the pain.  There is hope when all seems lost.  It is all because of communal relationship with you.  When we are in community, worshiping you with one another, we find a place of hope and grace that can and often does sustain us in our time of need.  Be with those this night who are feeling alone and afraid, for those about to travel through their fear of travelling to find solace from doctors or find comfort in the arms of loved ones.  Be with the lost ones, lost through physical or mental separation.  Protect those who have fallen into human sex trafficking.  Use us to feed and clothe the hungry and cold.  Enfold in your abundant arms those who are the most vulnerable this night, filling them with your unending love.  Amen.

For O.J.M.

Nerf Bow and Arrow set
Gopher’s football jersey
Baseballs for the wall
Checks to spend away
Hot ham sandwiches
Family surrounds
Laughter peals
Cake and ice cream
Muffins and apple crisp
Stories are shared
A long drive in the rain
All for this
All for the ten year old
All for family
All for love

Dear God, bless my nephew as we celebrated his birthday today.  He’s ten, you know.  All boy, always ready with a smile, a football, a soccer ball and his dog.  Let him know how much he is loved and keep his smile bright.  Guide his footsteps and let him be a light in this world.  Amen.

Family Time

I've spent the day travelling today.  I love driving when the trees are at this point—still green with hints of gold and red.  The sumac is brilliant against the golden grasses.  Driving through the bluffs of Southeastern Minnesota, I always feel at home.  An eagle soaring over the river is always a welcomed sight. 

My cousin’s wife died earlier this week, so I drove down to my parents’ home to carpool down to LaCrosse, where we gathered to celebrate her life.  My cousin seemed numb, wearing his wife’s wedding band set as a slide at the knot of his tie.  His older brother officiated the service and his other two brothers and parents attended.   I haven’t seen all of them together for a few years.

The youngest of the “boys” fell off a roof a year and a half ago, paralyzing him.  Seeing him today, I was able to see the progress he has made.  It is astounding all he has accomplished in these 15 months.  He surprised his mom with his newest experience:  eating with his right hand.  He told me today that he has met 9 years of sobriety this week.  With all that he has gone through, maintaining his sobriety is huge.

I find it interesting that so many of us rely on major life events to gather to realize the importance of family.  The looks in the eyes of my cousins reminded me that these people are a part of me.  They were my first friends, my protectors and my family.  Apart more than together, I still trust them to be my friends, protectors and family.

O Father of all families, thank you for my family.  Be with those who are hurting, for those who care for them and for those who support in whatever ways they are able.  Receive those who have died and embrace those who are grieving.  Help us find peace in our sorrow and joy in our living.  Amen.

Transitions

There’s a steady rain falling again tonight.  We've brought in some of the plants, hoping to keep them from suffering from an early freeze.  It doesn't make any sense to cover them in this rain—a sheet will only get wet and it won’t do much to protect the plants.  We've gotten over two inches of rain in the past couple weeks; a good way to prepare the soil for the first frost.  Our leaves are in the midst of changing and the rain can sometimes make them fall before they have completed their colorful cycle.  The few hours of sunshine we had today were wonderfully warm and a harbinger of joy. 

It’s that time of the year where we bounce between joy and sorrow, sunshine and rain.  It’s all about finding balance between them and learning how to live in the moments, accepting all the emotions we carry and releasing them with the wind when necessary and clinging to them as the warmth penetrates our skin.

Our rhythms are slowing as the darkness increases.  Rising in the darkness, we seem to bookend our days with the shadows.  And it is easy to succumb to the unknown that lurks in those hours when we are tired and weary.  The fleeting moments of sun-dappled days are filled with hours of indoor activity, leaving us wanting more time, more time, more time to throw leaves in the air and dance with the breeze.

I need to make time to feel the rhythm of the season, let the leaves fall on my shoulders, listen to the birds and watch the critters scampering across the lawn.  I need to look into the shadows without fear and breathe the crisp air, deeply.  I need to live in the moment where the sun meets the clouds, where the last moments of night depart and the first rays of day reach out, where leaves turn from green to gold and where I embrace the cycle of the seasons.

O Creator, thank you for the space between light and dark, green and gold, sun and rain.  These are the places where I experience all that life has to offer.  If I wait for one or the other, I may forget to live. There is beauty in the transitions of life and I want to learn how to see them more clearly and with a thankful heart.  Your Spirit is ever moving through all the moments of creation.  Thank you.  Amen. 

Squeezing or melding?

“We don't attend worship to squeeze God into our lives; we seek to meld our lives into God's.”

Schnase, Robert (2008-05-01). Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations (p. 34). Abingdon Press. Kindle Edition.

This is the second time today I've encountered a phrase like this.  The first time it was specifically about prayer:  “When we pray, are we praying to be in relationship with God, willing to have enough faith to listen and accept God’s will?  Prayer is asking for God’s perfect will.”  Apparently I am supposed to have some kind of relationship with these words today.

Sitting with this idea, I think about all the ways I have engaged “Sabbath” in my posts recently.  The importance of learning how to live a life where I am ever conscious of God’s presence, in relationship with the holiness of living, seeing how creation is integrated into daily life, how God’s redemptive power guides my thoughts, all these things and more are ways to meld my life into constant relationship with God.  Setting aside Sabbath time to renew a right relationship, creating a time set apart from the requirements of daily living, is the space in which to renew and refocus my energy.  Not to squeeze God in, but to pay special attention to the variety of gifts presented in both the noise and silence of being.

Another way I can think about these words is in how a year ago (yesterday) I began a spiritual practice of writing prayers nearly daily.  To be honest, sometimes it really feels like I’m squeezing God into my busy, busy life when I write.  I don’t always want to set aside the time I need to listen for the Holy Spirit to guide my thoughts and prayers.  But most of the time, I find this time with God and my computer to be a holy exchange of ideas, needs, prayers, intercessions and focus on my relationship with God.  It is a time when I can let go of what is in my own head and listen to whatever it is God is trying to tell me.

The trifecta here is an unexpected one.  Five years ago today, my father in law died.  He wasn't a church going worshipper of God, but he worshipped God nonetheless through his abundant love of nature.  He melded his life into God’s through his nature walks, his gardening, his running, canoeing, kayaking and hiking.  He appreciated the music of creation and the music created by others. He loved to listen more than speak.  He may not have seemed like someone who made time to be in relationship with God, but when I think back to his quiet demeanor and the way he honored creation, I think he often was in relationship with the Holy. 

O Holy One, help me to be more mindful of this one life you have given to me.  The ways I encounter you in creation, technology and living are many.  The people you have placed in my life are abundant.  Open my eyes, ears, heart, mind and soul to receive all I need to meld my life into yours, completely and without reservation.  For you are my God, always and evermore.  Amen.

Thanking God it's Friday

Fridays are becoming my day of rest, of taking a break, of taking time to take care of me.  I am finding Fridays are the day I take care of the things that may not be the most fun, like laundry and such, but those things bring me into communion with my home and they help me stay connected with the rhythm here.  Some loaves of frozen bread dough transformed into fresh bread, some plants were reorganized as some of the outdoor plants need to come in soon to winter over, a decent meal was prepared and a trip to Target accomplished.  These tasks send me back to the days when my main responsibility was to maintain our home and raise our children.  As much as I am looking forward, these moments of looking back and reconnecting with whom I am at my depths give me a certain peace I cannot find elsewhere.

Unable to find ways to bring peace into my being lately seems to be what has been causing my internal anxiety about school and life and my future.  Sometimes it takes the comfort of the familiar to refresh enough to step into the risks that the next days, weeks, months and years have in store. 

O Heavenly Father, thank you for giving me time to take care of myself in ways that are familiar and comforting.  In times of stress it is easy to feel guilty for what is not being accomplished, even when plenty is being accomplished, often as the better part, fulfilling the real needs.  Finding personal moments of peace are ways to stay connected with self and with you.  Thank you for this special time.  Amen.

Rejoicing in a time of pain.

This is the day that the Lord has made, let us give thanks and rejoice.

Those are some difficult words today.  How can one family be thankful when their day began with a major cat scratch on the eyelid, causing serious damage to the lid and serious skin glue work from the doctors?  And then their van breaks down for at least the third time and needs to be towed?  Last, one of their bicycles was stolen?  And how about another friend whose iphone was stolen from her business (and the thief caught on tape)?  What about the bank robbery at our local Cub Foods TCF branch?  Then there’s an elderly woman who has been taking care of her husband (who has Alzheimer’s and is living in a nursing home) for the past seven years and is experiencing severe exhaustion?  How about those South Dakota ranchers and farmers who have lost significant numbers of their livestock and are feeling ignored and neglected by the government?

Let me tell you how.  By focusing on all that is good in life.  Like the successful surgery today for the little boy we all have been praying for these past few days.  By eating ice cream and finding joy in little things.  By experiencing a beautiful sunrise (there were so many photos today!).  Watching the Lynx win!  In hearing that another thief and destroyer of property was captured and charged with his crime.  Especially, though, through spending time with friends, family and colleagues, who love and support, laugh and cry, pray and pray and pray even in the midst of fear, sorrow and anger.  Trusting in our God, who made this day and through it, reminds us of the ever-presence of the Holy, especially when things seem so insecure and frightening.

O God, my complaints seem so mild when I pay attention to the many, many negative, sad and frightening things others experience.  Thank you for reminding me, through the words of a victim, that all that we experience is relative to our own lives and even though our own complaints seem minor in comparison, they are still struggles that need attention.  Thank you, also, for placing little and large miracles in my path, especially for the successful surgery for a little boy in a bed.  This IS the day you have made!  I will find reasons to rejoice, especially when it’s hard.  All praise and awe for your gifts.  Amen.

It's a little slippery where I'm walking

I feel like I’m walking on the damp, slippery surface of a fallen tree covered in moss.  My arms are outstretched as I pretend to have control of my balance.  Putting one foot carefully in front of the other the pressure of my step squishes the moss, pressing it into its roots.  Twig sized branches, void of any leaves, brush against my cheek as if to warn me of the multiple risks I am taking as I navigate through this particular obstacle on this specific path on this unique day.  

Risks are like that.  The unknown obstacles, the unsure footing, the unwillingness to take, what could be, the easier path, are all shouting at me, “Why this choice?  Why these classes?  Why?  Why?  Why?”  I’m hoping that what I have chosen at this time will help me be better than I was before.  But I feel lost in the woods, pushing at the overgrowth of words that are blocking my path, making me stumble and question my resolve.

 

I’m trying to maintain a sense of humor, time with those I love, a fully stocked kitchen with well cooked meals, quiet time with God and with myself as I look at, page through and read the stacks of books, write the never ending two page reflection papers and learn how to be a member of a leadership team in a church.  I feel like I am slipping…

When I talk about feeling overwhelmed I am assured that this is what ministry looks like. 

Oh my.

And then, while reading tonight I come to this:

“How does your faith community receive its pastors? Your pastoral leaders need your love, encouragement, and prayer as much as you need theirs. Many priests and ministers feel isolated, embattled, overwhelmed, and inadequate. They never feel they have enough time to meet all the demands of church life, let alone respond adequately to family or personal needs. Guilt over lack of a personal prayer life is common.

Here are a few simple acts of hospitality you could offer to the leaders we invest with great expectations and responsibilities. Listen to your pastors. Find out what a typical work week is like. Ask if they take a regular day off. Do they have sufficient time for personal spiritual nurture to sustain the service of their ministry? Ask what kind of support you can offer that would enable them to continue a growing and vital spiritual life. Then give them the support they need. Pray for your church leaders, during worship and through the week.”

Marjorie J. Thompson. Soul Feast: An Invitation to the Christian Spiritual Life (Kindle Locations 1867-1872). Kindle Edition.

So I ask for your prayers, that you pray for your spiritual leaders, because they, like you and I, carry burdens beyond comprehension and sometimes we forget.

Dear God, you know the weaknesses and worries of those who lead your people.  Tend their hearts, minds and spirits, giving them the necessary soil to flourish and grow.  Help them to find what they need to be whole and fully yours, balancing what they need and want with what they have been called to do.  Nurture them as they nurture us.  Amen.

Living "under the tyranny of things of space"

“The meaning of the Sabbath is to celebrate time rather than space.  Six days a week we live under the tyranny of things of space; on the Sabbath we try to become attuned to holiness in time.  It is a day on which we are called upon to share in what is eternal in time, to turn from the results of creation to the mystery of creation; from the world of creation to the creation of the world (p. 10).”

Excerpts from Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man (NY: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1951)

When I read this earlier today I was touched by the poetic way Heschel wrote about celebrating the holiness of time.  We work and have our being throughout the weeks, months and years of our lives, but do we give ourselves space to be tuned into the rhythm of time?  Do we know how to stop, turn off, and put away so we can embrace the gift of blessed time?  Society seems to expect us to go-go-go, spinning uncontrollably, up and down to the constant noise in our heads and in the soundtracks of living.  Even at rest we often choose to watch a movie or television where the movement and the noise interrupt the opportunities silencing them would provide.

One of my friends mentioned that for a while her household would shut off everything electric (not the fridge or heat or things like that) for an hour on a Sunday.  It was a way to quiet the house, the mind and the soul.  It would, I suspect, bring them into the holiness of silence, opening them to communion with their God, their souls and with one another.  I wonder what kind of impact such a move would make in my own household.  I wonder if we would be able to break free from that “tyranny of things of space” Heschel mentioned.  I wonder how we would choose to spend the time—together or in seclusion or napping.  I wonder if I would convince anyone else to stop with me.  I wonder how we would understand creation if we were to just listen and watch as the miracles unfold in that magic hour.

O Heavenly One, how can we find the Sabbath respite when the world has so many demands?  The commitment some Jews have made to Sabbath rest is astonishing and frankly something I desire in my own life.  I am thankful for the snippets of time I take to break away from the demands of living, but when I learn more of the Sabbath ritual, I am guilty of religious envy.  Help me to find a balance that works for me and all my commitments and that fulfills my regular need for quiet time with you and the ones I love.  This I ask with a weary heart, mind and soul, thirsty for the refreshment only Sabbath rest can provide.  Amen.

A boy in a bed

There is a little boy, just under the age of four, who has an autoimmune disease.  This week, he will be having surgery to remove a gland I don’t know the name of, in hopes that he will begin to heal and to live a more full life.  These past couple of days he’s been in the hospital with an IV treatment that keeps him latched to his bed in the evening, limiting his mobility.  His blood pressure has skyrocketed and his pulse has plummeted.  The poor boy is stressed out and his body is reacting to his stress, in ways not unlike adults.  I cannot imagine he really understands the situation, intellectually, but emotionally, he does.  He gets a couple hours a day to play with cousins before he goes to sleep, but the adults who surround him watch with deep concern for his health and well-being.  They are afraid.  

I cannot fully comprehend how deeply this child understands his illness nor can I imagine the level of concern the adults in his life are bearing.  So we pray.  We pray for the child, for his parents, his large and loving extended family, for the nursing staff, the doctors and surgeons, for the volunteers and the food workers, for all whose lives are touched by a boy in a bed who is ill.

O Heavenly Father, surround the hospitals this night with your loving embrace.  Give hope and peace to those who wait.  Give clarity and calm to those who provide care.  Give rest and good medicine to those who are in beds.  Be with the children, especially, as they struggle with unfamiliar emotions and fears.  Calm their hearts with your abiding love.  Amen.

Wedding Day

They lit balloon lamps and sent them on the breeze into the night sky to celebrate their marriage instead of throwing birdseed or rice.  Their love is aloft, traveling with the wind, through the sky, the final resting place a mystery.

Pages from books were carefully folded into bouquets, corsages and boutonnieres of word covered roses.  Their love is within the words so delicately molded into unexpected beauty.

From stainless tureens five flavors of soups were ladled into square bowls, hand crafted by her brother.  Their love is nourished by wholesome foods lovingly prepared by a master chef.

Vows written and recited by each, unfolded from his pocket and unwrapped from her paper flowers, a personal message especially written for the other.  Their love explodes from a blank page into the world, expressing promises of faithfulness and commitment.

Congratulations, Courtney and Eddie!

Dear God of Love, enfold Courtney and Eddie on their wedding day, as their promises become public and their commitment made legal and the beauty of their relationship is blessed and honored with prayers and celebration.  Be with them in their marriage and give them strength and courage to love one another through all that life gives.  Bless them, guide them and love them on this and every day.  Amen.

The Midnight Hour

It’s midnight again.  For some reason I can’t seem to break the habit of late nights, even when I know I have an early morning rapidly approaching. 

I wish I could understand the rhythm of the creative, curious mind.  It is at this time of the day that I can sometimes do the most writing, and often do.  I've started awake in the middle of the night to write a paper or a sermon or to journal about something that is gnawing at my heart.  The need to express through words often seems to be a nighttime activity for me.  I suppose it’s because there are fewer interruptions and I can focus in a different way, or because the sounds of the night, mixed with the night air rejuvenate me enough to create sentences that border on brilliant…at least in my delirium! 

Is it the most effective way to get the things done I need to do, especially when the overnight creativity steals from the daylight activities?  As long as I don’t make a habit of it and can still find the necessary hours I need for restorative rest, yes, it can be. 

Dear God of each hour, be with those who find sleep elusive.  Help us to use those hours in productive ways: to simply listen to you, to list blessings and thanksgivings, to pray for others, for our leaders, for our world and for ourselves. Guide our sleepless hours with good habits, creative endeavors, and peaceful activities.  In your Holy Name we pray.  Amen.

I didn't get anything done today.

A friend calls and an unexpected lunch date occurs.
A few spare minutes and calendars are synched.
A calculated break on the couch and a nap refreshes.
A phone call last night and today, a friend comes along to a lecture.
An assigned lecture at Hamline and a dialogue of peace in Israel and Palestine begins.
A scheduled cleaning of the Lowry tunnel and two friends get an extra 30 minutes to visit.

I didn’t think I accomplished much today, when I didn’t crack a book or write a word on an afternoon where I had opportunity and time, but when I reflect back, each moment accomplished something I needed and there is nothing to feel bad about.  My schedule is full, my head swimming with things to do, and still, moments like these remind me that I have a life to live, full of people who I want and need to spend time with and that I need and want these distractions to set me back on a healthy path where people and activities are a welcome part of the schedule or a necessary distraction. 

Dear God, you love us to be in relationship with one another!  We sometimes need to remember that you didn’t make us to be alone in this world and you have placed people in our lives to help us be and become.  Thank you for shaking up rigid schedules; allowing connections and reconnections to occur, keeping us whole and healthy.  Amen.

One Maple Leaf

I found a maple leaf on the ground as I walked up our front walk.  It was a deep red, almost burgundy.  It was one of those perfectly shaped leaves that cry out, “Pick me up and press me in a book!”  I left it there, a contrast against what is left of the green grass, amidst the acorns and their caps, as a symbol that the season is changing again.  I suppose I could have picked it up and held it for a few moments, admiring how just last week the leaf was green and today it looks different.  New.  Transformed.  Not just a little bit, but fully changed in a short, short time.

Tomorrow I could go out and look for that leaf and I know that if I could find it, no longer a candidate for an autumn leaf collection it would be drier and more brittle and maybe a little more brown.  But there would be another, newly fallen leaf, adding to the layer on the grass.  Each day, the lawn will transform as the other trees let go of the 2013 leaves, their lives spent, their cycle complete.

The leaves have provided shelter and shade when the sun was hottest and now they will provide nourishment for the earth, feeding the ground as it prepares for the winter.

Another reminder of the life cycle, of the fluidity of living and dying.  Today is the anniversary of the death of a friend, and there were three posts on Facebook about people dying or being buried today.  Each expressed their thankfulness for the life of their loved one, how they were sheltered, protected and nourished by these loved ones in life and will be strengthened by the memories as they grieve. 

Maybe I should gather a few leaves and acorns and light a candle, focusing on life, thankful for the cycle.

O Holy One, birds are migrating, winds are blowing, leaves are falling and people are dying.  Through all these signs, help us to be thankful, to press our memories into a book and to give you praise.  Amen.