This past Monday evening, the Monday of Labour Day Weekend, we enjoyed the sunset at Sauble Beach. As we silently sat on the park bench, the sun steadily lowered itself into the distant horizon but not without vibrant shades of peach, pink and soft white. We know that as the sun sets on one horizon it is rising on another.
So, as we drove home in the gathering dark our thoughts turned to preparing for the week ahead, meanwhile; the sun was brightening the morning horizon for others.
As the world turns on its axis, at 1,000 miles per hour, the sun rises, and sets and rises again. It is a reminder of how fleeting our days truly are; weeks becoming months seemingly in a blink of an eye.
Now, as we head back into the busyness of September and our calendars fill with appointments, meetings and constant routine, may we remember to pause daily to acknowledge the divinity that surrounds us all and may this presence ground us in God’s enduring peace, joy and love.
We in Canada have been celebrating Labour Day since 1894; it has become a national statutory holiday. Traditionally this day, the first Monday of September, was set aside for honouring laborers of the middle class. On this day there were picnics, parades and activities planned to bring together the laborers in a day of solidarity.
Things are different now. Today Labour Day is more about getting the children back into routine for another school year and for catching up on all the summer chores at home. This has become the weekend when we begin to turn over the garden, pull up the bedding plants and air out the sweaters. It has become known as the last weekend of the summer.
But, truth is, the official last day of summer is 2 weeks after Labour Day weekend on September 21st. That leaves almost 14 more days of warm afternoons at the beach or hiking our favorite trails or reading a good book in the shade of a tree. The sun does set earlier by September which only creates more time for star gazing or enjoying a late summer campfire.
The playful butterflies seem to linger in September inviting us all to enjoy the marigolds, Chrysanthemums and late summer roses. May we accept this invitation and pause long enough to make a few more memories before this summer’s chapter closes. As William Shakespeare writes, “Summer’s lease hath all too short a date”!
It is our custom to walk the same path several times a week. It is a 2.5 km trail that follows the river and twists and turns through a forest. We have been walking this trail for many years; never tiring of the ever changing weather, landscape, flowers, shrubs and trees.
This trail has been a stay point in our lives. First we walked it with our small children in a stroller or carried on our backs. We have photos of them proudly holding their first salamander, snake or crayfish. There is the ‘Raccoon Tree’ and the ‘Owl Tree’, both having been the resting places of their namesakes. There is the tree that lovers have carved their names into for over 60 years and the tree that grows out of a big rock.
As each of the children returned home from University they would join us for this evening stroll discussing future plans, hopes and dreams. Now they return with their partners and we happily welcome them into our family routine.
One special stop on our evening stroll is a particular tree. Nearing the end of the trail is a little pine tree that looks entirely out of place. Somehow, the wind carried a tiny seed which managed to plant itself under tall deciduous trees. With determination this seed dared to root, grow and stake claim to a small spot near the river. We have been cheering him on ever since! At first his tiny trunk was thin and bendable but now; due to strength gained from strong winds, heavy snow and from being trampled upon, he is strong.
Last winter we dug him out after a snow storm and were thrilled to find him reaching up to us! It was then, impressed by his tenacity and persistence we gave him a name; Percival.
Percival is a mighty fine name for such a small specimen of life. Percival was one of King Arthur’s Knights at the Round Table. Legend has it his courage and strength made him a hero; this little pine tree has risen to the heights of his name.
On Sunday evening we paid Percival a visit. We were relieved to find him at his tallest and as I ran my hands along his soft needles I decided to snap a photo. Someday I will share this photo with my grandchildren and be able to share the story of Percival’s humble beginnings.
I once asked members of a congregation if they could email me photos of their favorite trees. It was amazing the photos I received. One woman sent me five photos of the same tree spanning 3 generations; photos of weddings, birthdays, and family reunions all taken under this same tree. Another woman sent me photos of a tree her son had planted on his first day of kindergarten and every first day of school they snapped a photo of him by his tree. In the last photo he was in his graduation gown with the tree towering over him. I also received photos of memorable Christmas trees and trees that held unique tree houses. Each of these trees had their own stories to tell.
Trees are one of God’s greatest creations; a steadfast in all our lives. So, do you have a favorite tree?
Painting by Canadian artist, Cecil Henry Greenhow ( January 27, 1935 – July 7, 2017)
There is a painting that hangs in our upstairs hallway; it is oil on canvas in shades of blue depicting a city street on a blustery winter evening. Among the snow fall and along the snow packed street two figures walk, their backs to us, one taller than the other, both huddled against the seemingly cold north wind.
This painting reminds me of the 23rd psalm.
The 23rd Psalm is a psalm for those times when life takes twists and turns leading us through the shadows of darkness. There is no suggestion that we can take a detour around the dark valley; it is a path we all must travel. But there is a promise that we will never travel the darkness alone. As Rev. Dr. Limburg writes, “Like a good shepherd who cares for the sheep, like a loving parent who holds the hand of a child, the Lord promises to be with us on that way through the darkness.”
The tall figure in the painting reminds me of God’s presence walking beside us all the way; even through the blustery storms of life. As Jesus tells us in Matthew 28:20 “Surely I am with you always.”
The same everlasting God who cares for us today will take care of us tomorrow and every day. As the 23rd Psalm teaches, either God will shield us from suffering or God will give us the strength to bear whatever befalls. As Saint Francis De Sales writes, “Be at peace, then, and set aside all anxious thoughts and worries.”
Abby, my canine sidekick, and I enjoy starting the day early. After a quick breakfast Abby is ready to follow me down to the water barrel where I begin to fill watering cans. The splashing of water seems to wake the birds and slowly they join us with their perfect pitch. With our wagon full of heavy watering cans we follow the softly lit path down to the garden. The next half hour weeds are pulled, vines are placed on poles, roots are watered and, on a good day, fresh vegetables are gathered.
Each summer day begins with this most enjoyable routine; until recently. One morning a neighbor snapped a photo of a bear that was meandering down our street, calmly enjoying the sunrise; Abby and I would have been at the garden as he passed by! A week later I was surprised to see a tall thin fox running down the street and disappear into the forest. And, if this wasn’t enough, my friend was shocked to cross paths with a porcupine early one morning.
I decided to play it safe so we stopped our morning routine. I simply took Abby out on a leash each morning for a few minutes. It was decided that evenings would be our time in the garden.
This decision didn’t work out too well. By the time evening arrived my tiredness would win out and the garden began to show signs of neglect. Also, restlessness had taken up residence in my soul expressing itself through impatience and tiredness. My morning routine had grounded me in a quiet time of prayer and solitude that resulted in a profound sense of connectedness with God; I was missing this deeply.
So, we bravely re-committed to our much loved morning routine. Abby and I have been returning the wagon to its place by the water barrel just as the sun’s early rays climb over the horizon. It is with joy that I drink my morning coffee with a touch of dirt under my nails and a happy dog by my feet. We have not met any wild beasts and if we do, we have decided to simply smile, nod and quietly go about our business. You see, us early morning types tend not to be very social.
Rumi wrote, “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.” I am grateful that each morning starts with this quiet time; a time when I can listen to the secrets of the breeze.
How did we get to the last week of July already? Where has the time gone? If you were to make this August one of the top 3 Augusts of your life, what would that mean for you? What would it take to make this an amazing August?
I would begin by making a list of all the things that would make this my best August. This list would be all things I can control such as: go berry picking then bake a pie, plan a weekly BBQ for my closest friends and family, sit on the beach and slowly run my toes through the sand, photograph the sunset every day for a week, read a good book in the shade of a tree, roast marshmallow’s over a camp fire, ride my bike in the first rays of the sunrise, eat vegetables straight out of the garden and go star gazing.
Next would be my list of ‘Bonus Things’. This would be a list of things I cannot control but hope to experience such as seeing fire flies, wishing on a falling star, having a bird eat out of my hand, photographing a beautiful butterfly with its wings wide open, and a perfect balance of rain and sun daily to keep everything green and lush.
Before the arrival of September I would hope to slow life down enough to savor fresh corn, listen deeply to the melody of a buzzing bee and as poet Denise Levertov writes, “Breathe the sweetness that hovers in August.”
What would be the measure of an amazing August for you? There are only a few days left to get your list prepared!
Have you ever noticed how the twelve months of the year line up with the first twelve hours on a clock?
Midnight to one a.m. is January with its quiet darkness followed by two a.m. the equally dark month of February; these are the restful months of deepening as roots do into the soil.
New life begins to appear in March, the 3rd month of the year; the quiet hour of three a.m. This is the time of sprouting and breaking free from the soil. The slight rays of the sun begin to lighten the sky around 4 a.m. just as April, the 4th month of the year, carries us into the dawning of spring bringing with it Snow Drops, shy little Crocuses and tiny new leaves on each tree.
By May we arrive to the celebration of Tulips, Daffodils, and the highly perfumed Hyacinths followed by the brilliance of June which explodes with colour from the top of each tree down to the tiniest wild flower among the grasses.
The monthly pace of each hour occurred to me this past week as the Tiger Lilies filled the gardens and waved from alongside the roadways. The Lilacs, Bleeding Hearts and Peonies have come and gone signally the early summer’s passing and now we are in the time of Daisies, Delphiniums, and Columbines; which means we are at half past July already!
Before we know it the hour of the Poppies, Black-Eyed Susans and Foxgloves will arrive filling the garden with whimsy while quietly drawing us closer to “a quarter to autumn” and, without much fanfare the Chrysanthemums, Sunflowers and Purple Fountain Grass will usher in the tenth hour and we will find ourselves in the roar of autumn colours.
Each month is part of a whole; a bouquet of beauty. May we all pause long enough and often enough to capture the beauty of each hour.
Last week Death came for tea and stayed the afternoon. We shared in chocolate cake, sugar cookies, conversation and a few good laughs.
One of the women of the church had arranged for a ‘Death Café’ inviting a Death Doula (someone trained to accompany the dying) to lead and encourage conversation. One may think an afternoon of discussing death would be sad or depressing but it was quite the opposite. Our afternoon was full of stories, plans and laughter.
Why would we spend a lovely summer afternoon discussing death? Because it is important we each remember our death is pending in order to capture the grandeur of each moment. The average lifespan is around 80 years which works out to 4,160 weeks. Or, to put it into another perspective, we each have 80 winters, 80 springs, 80 summers and 80 autumns. To remember our death is to remember how very valuable each season is. This remembering should cause us all to slow down, look around and savor the passing beauty.
The stoics taught there is wisdom in reminding ourselves daily of our impending death. Seneca, one of the greatest stoics, “reminds us that death is something that’s happening here, even as you read this. The time that passes belongs to death, he says. What is lived we never get back. We are dying every minute, every second. When we hurry we are speeding that along” (The Daily Stoic).
May we all slow down this summer and soak in the irreplaceable beauty of each moment,
Recently, while on holiday, I had the opportunity to attend worship at different churches. Each service was meaningful in their own ways. One thing I noticed was that the wearing of masks was optional at all the services and only at one of the churches did the majority of those in attendance wear masks.
While drawing my mask out of my pocket I looked around wondering what the difference was in this church compared to the others.
After the service I was told that there were a few folks from a group home who attended and the only way they can attend worship is if everyone masks. This is done out of an abundance of concern around one individual who has a serious lung disease. This faith community would rather all mask then have that one person not attend worship. What a beautiful act of belonging and love!
This faith community has become one of my favorite churches as a result of this selflessness.
There are a few things worth keeping from pandemic living. For example, I do hope the live-streaming of funeral services is here to stay. This has made it possible for family members across the country to attend funeral services.
I also hope ZOOM meetings are a permanent change. Given the long and nasty winter months we encounter here on Georgian Bay I rather like simply turning off my computer at the end of a meeting instead of white knuckling it through snow drifts and white outs.
There are many other changes the pandemic has taught that hopefully will remain but the one I witnessed at that worship service is, in my opinion, one of the most powerful changes; to do for others instead of selfishly taking care of only ourselves.
When we look beyond ourselves and find ways to live that enhance life for others, we make a peaceful world possible.
The pandemic was a universal experience; people of all races, sexual orientation, religion, socioeconomic status and age were touched by it and perhaps the best response is for us, without bias, to show selfless regard for each other by sharing respect, acceptance and patience. As the song goes,
I’d like to see the world for once, All standing hand in hand. And hear them echo through the hills, For peace throughout the land.
I’d like to teach the world to sing, In perfect harmony. And I’d like to hold it in my arms, And keep it company. (I’d Like to Teach The World To Sing by The New Seekers, 1972)
It has been a great spring for vegetable gardens! I spent this morning pulling up weeds, thinning the onions and “poling up” the beans.
“Poling up” the beans has become a daily task. I speak sweetly to each little green bean plant while gently encouraging the vines to grow up the thin bamboo sticks. Each day I leave them delicately wrapped around the poles in the right direction only to return the next morning to their wandering ways.
As I, again, gather the vines from the patch of peas, soil and from wandering towards the tomatoes I whisper sweet nothings while rewrapping them around the poles. Tomorrow will be the same and yet, I will happily redirect them.
It was green beans that first hooked me on gardening. During grade three we each were given a clear plastic cup, a wad of wet paper towel and a bean seed. With an indelible marker we placed our names on the cup, wrapped the seed in wet paper towel, placed it in the cup and picked our spot on the windowsill; than we waited.
The excitement of witnessing the daily growth of that tiny black seed has never left me. This excitement is only matched by the day I proudly display the first pickings from the garden. It may only be a radish or a meager offering of lettuce but there is nothing in the world that tastes as divine as the first “fruits” of the vegetable garden.
Philosopher Francis Bacon reminds us that “God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures.” So, this week as we officially head into summer 2022 may we all spend these cherished days doing that which adds to our joy, increases our awe and fills our soul with delight.
Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century 