WING BEATS & HEART BEATS

The theme of July’s Women in Repose retreat, Wing Beats & Heart Beats, was about how to live your truest life...how to live as close to the person and good works of service and worship that God called you to be, and ordained you to walk in. When we let the ecology of God’s creation instruct us…about how each living and non-living thing has a purpose and place (a niche) and a vital connection to the whole…the more inspired we become to bring into focus God’s call on our own lives, however general or specific we believe that to be. Nature is the consummate teacher of this lesson, especially Lepidoptera, or butterflies!

July through September is the prime time to discover moth and butterfly larvae, their pupae, and finally the metamorphosed adults doing exactly what they are called to do for the short time they are on this earth…perhaps teaching us about intention, rest, and transformation as they do. It is a short life, amazingly simple and complex, as all true, beautiful and noble things are. Their purpose is simple…to mate and produce offspring. But the outworking of that purpose is full of complex choices, drastic changes, dangers, preparations, and periods of transforming rest.

The inspiring life history of a butterfly begins as an egg, which the female deposits on the leaf or branch of a specific host plant. The female will scratch the surface of various leaves, picking up through chemical cues whether it is the right plant that will feed her emerging larva (caterpillars). Many butterflies have only one native host plant they can survive on, such as the Monarch with their dependence on plants in the milkweed family. No milkweed. No Monarchs.

After the caterpillar forms inside the egg, it emerges to go through several stages of growth, called instars. During this time, the caterpillar consumes huge amounts of host plant vegetation, all the while in daily danger of being snatched by birds, or lizards, or eliminated by pesticides, field mowing or burning of vegetation. All this feeding is necessary in preparation for the pupae or chrysalis transformation, and also because many butterflies have no mouthparts for eating, so they must rely on the reserves stored up from their caterpillar-stage consumption.

After a few weeks of feeding, the larva attaches itself on or near its host plant and forms a pupa or covering around it. What comes next may then be one of the most miraculous and glorious events in nature. As the caterpillar rests inside, it dissolves and is completely “re-mastered” at the cellular level into something that now has delicately scaled wings, sensing antennae, a different color and shape entirely, and a complete reproductive system with which to do it all over again…immediately. Once the metamorphosis is complete, the butterfly is intent on finding a mate on the pheromone-laden wind, laying eggs, re-fueling on the nectar plants available (hopefully), and dodging all birds, amphibians, and speeding cars on the road.

We have only scratched the surface of the innumerable intricacies involved in this fascinating, but brief, life of the butterfly. But in its essence, it gives us much to meditate on as we ponder our own life choices (are they true, prayerful, with lasting consequences?), our own times of rest and solitude (are they regular and frequent), and our own spiritual formation (is it intentional, relational and joyful?)

I’ll use the ecological term to say that finding your niche (and you may have more than one purpose and place in the seasons of life) takes the disciplines of “listening to your life,” as Fredrick Beuchner says, and listening to God, as Jesus says. I think Mary, of Mary and Martha fame, is someone who got this concept and found herself exactly where she was supposed to be.

Martha, having become overwhelmed with her domestic role of preparations turns to Jesus and, in amplified paraphrasing, says:

“Lord, don’t you care…"
…that my sister left me alone to do all the serving?
…that things are not running smoothly?
…that I am trying to do a good thing here – and it’s not working out the way I’d planned?
…that I am fulfilling my role as a woman and my insensitive sister isn’t?
…that I am not even on anyone’s radar screen here?

Mary, on the other hand…
…ignored the imposed cultural system
…knew her time with Jesus, listening to and learning the words of life, was short.
…wasn’t bothered by the tyranny of urgent things, like domestic chores or eating.
…was focused – not distracted by all the distractions (you know what they are).
…intentionally chose that which would benefit her most and for the longest time. – listening to God with a restful spirit, hopeful “that her change would come” in time.

She got it right, and Jesus recognized her willingness to be and act differently for the sake of truth. For the sake of her own soul. For the sake of worship. Mary’s life was a metamorphosis - into a woman of love and service to humanity through the ages - because of the choices she made.

She found her niche...and it was at Jesus’ feet.

I saw a small illustration of this idea of "purpose and place" when I attended the first annual Appalachian Butterfly Conference recently down at Shawnee State Park, sponsored by the Shawnee Nature Club. Presently, this is a bunch of older folks who, back in the 1960’s, formed an informal group to hike together, learn together, and support conservation efforts in the region. I’m told the founder at some point perceived a need and desire among friends and decided to meet it. I’m imagining he was a leader with teaching tendencies to some degree and put all those gifts and talents out there into action, which obviously accomplished a lasting effort. He probably didn’t even think about it too much, nothing too formal and organized, he just let the need and passion carry him along. In fact just recently, some 40-plus years later, they finally applied for a non-profit status as an organization!

But I was intrigued, talking with these 60- and 70-year old nature-lovers, watching them scurry about like butterflies themselves with final preparations before the conference began. They had boundless energy, scribbling hand-written signs in magic marker, using tape and stickers to hold everything together, and sniping at one another one minute, laughing together the next. When I tried to sign up for their mailing list, they handed me a pen and pointed to one of the tablets provided by the lodge to write on. They wanted my address…and my email address...they guessed... if I wanted to give it. When I asked if they had a website, one woman laughed and said, no, she barely knows how to use the cell phone her kids gave her.

What has held this group together for so long?

My head began swimming, thinking about all the rotary phone calls made back and forth trying to plan this event for 60 attendees, hike leaders, out-of-town speakers, etc. No mass emails with all the pertinent and timely information. No computer-generated anything. Yet, they pulled it off. And all I kept thinking about was that they were just simply true to the mission and doing what they loved. And that the founder must have created a vision out of the things he loved, and taken a few small steps in the beginning to fill the niche. And that forty years later they are still out there on the trails, educating the curious, involved in conservation, and meeting every third Tuesday of the month at a retirement home!

So the example begs a few more questions : Are you doing what you love and true to a mission that God has placed in your heart? Are you pursuing transformation? Are you being still enough to hear the Voice that grants wisdom, gives purpose, and leads into loving service.

I hope so, because when you do, the whole world is changed.

THE ART OF SITTING IN ONE PLACE...

It is disappointing to note that over the last 20 years, the number of people visiting our National Parks has dropped more than 20%. While this is probably good for the ecosystems within the parks (not the park systems that needs the revenue), it shows an alarming trend in how people connect (or don't) with nature. That's 20 less people out of a hundred who have never experienced the hot, mysterious Everglades, or the cool, majestic Tetons. Not to be too cynical...but I'm guessing trips to Disneyland and Las Vegas have gone up in that same time frame.

Even those who do venture into the wilds of national, state or local parks probably do so more for the exercise, family time, or quick getaways from their routine, then for natural exploration or spiritual experience. Often people just hurry down paths, talking to one another along the way, moving towards a particular destination. While training to become a naturalist, I spent many hours on guided hikes learning to identify birds, wildflowers, and other creatures. But when the day came to lead my own hikes, I added (or subtracted?) something I thought the other trips lacked...time to sit in one place and let nature just come to us.

I practiced this art the other weekend at Prairie Pond Woods...sitting at the edge of the pond, sitting on a log up in the woods, sitting out in the open under a billion stars. And at each place...a jewel of wonder was brought to me.

It takes 10 minutes for our eyes to fully adjust to the darkness of night, so just stepping outside for a minute to view the stars isn't enough. It took that long for me...from not being able to even see the steps on the porch...to finally seeing that up against the black hills surrounding me, the number of fireflies equaled the number of stars, like a reflection of the sky in a dark pool of water.

The woods yielded many jewels while sitting...and spinning...as I heard this over there and that up there. At one point, I watched an ovenbird ("more often heard than seen," says the field guide), passing food to its fledgling close by. While trying to follow a hooded warbler with my binoculars, as it darted from a high to low branch, I spotted a small shrew scampering along the leaf litter. Things I would have missed completely had I been just passing through.

Later, I moved up to the ridge and sat on a log, still trying to catch a good glimpse of the hooded warbler I kept hearing. After a few minutes of just taking it all in, I heard a rustle behind me on the edge of the steep ravine. Turning around, I watched two speckled fawns stop in their tracks, just as they either caught sight or wind of me. I stared at them. They stared at me. Every now and then, they would move a bit closer, still staring and wondering if I was friend or foe. Finally, they settled into browsing no more than 10 feet away! I kept wondering if the mother might come up over the ridge and charge me, but we three coexisted for several brief moments together until, believe it or not, a hooded warbler landed on a small sapling next to one of the fawns. Both fawns curiously watched the bird as he flitted about for several seconds in the understory. I must admit it was quite adorable, and for a moment I wished hard that the barrier of fear that exists between humans and animals was finally gone. Then, after flicking a few too many bugs away from my face, the fawns probably decided I was a bit unpredictable and turned to walk down the slope.

These experiences are not that far out of reach, it just takes, like all art, practice and patience. So, this summer and fall, I hope you will get out there more often than maybe you did last year. Next time you're out in a park, your own backyard, or at Prairie Pond Woods, take time to sit, observe, and take it all in. When you're tempted to get up and leave, resist. Stay just 10 minutes longer...I think you'll be glad you did.

Cindy Steffen
Retreat Leader/Naturalist

SPRING/SUMMER SPECIES LIST

LISTS! I love them. In 2007, I started a species list of the flora I stumble across at Prairie Pond Woods while wandering on The Refresher Course. The Fauna LIST is still a work in progress, so that's the focus for next year!

And not to brag (since I had nothing to do with it), but after several visits to Lynx Prairie, a National Natural Landmark, there are really only a few prairie species growing there (albeit more abundantly) that we don't have...but I'm working on it! Because it is only about a mile away (as the crow flies), both parcels of land, and maybe some in between, were probably once a large alkaline prairie, before agriculture replaced the wildflowers and grasses with crops. Non-native species are indicated with an asterisk*.

Someday I hope you will pick a favorite month of flowers
and come see them in bloom at Prairie Pond Woods!

March/April Blooming

Cut-leaf toothwort, Rue Anemone, False Anemone, Golden Ragwort, Yellow Violet, White Violet, Common Blue Violet, White Trout Lily, Purple Cress, Wild Phlox, Bluets, Virginia Bluebells, Pennywort, Wild Ginger, Wild Columbine, Wild Strawberry, Winter Cress, Pussytoes, Jacob's Ladder, Jack-in-the-pulpit, Pink Lady's Slippers, Star of Bethlehem*, Daisy Fleabane*, Common Cinquefoil, Wild Petunia, Dogwoods, Redbud, Apple.



May/June Blooming

Two-flowered Cynthia, White Milkweed, Large-Flowering Trillium, Lyre-leaved Sage, Indian Hemp, Tall Meadow Rue, Downy Wood Mint, Ox-eye Daisy, Foxglove Beardtongue, Trumpet Vine, Mayapples, Prairie Rose, Honeysuckle Vine*, Deptford Pinks*, Yarrow*, Narrow-leaved Mtn. Mint, Flowering Spurge, American Columbo (not blooming), Buckeye, Ninebark, Black Locust, Wild Black Cherry, Honey Locust, Dark Green Bulrush, Spike Rush, Hawkweed*, Deerberry, Wild Hydrangea,


July/August Blooming (taken from this & last year)

Butterfly Weed, Black-eyed Susan, Blackberry, Multi-flora Rose*, Common Milkweed, Thimbleweed, Slender Ladies Tresses, Elderberry, Sourwood trees, Hickory nuts letting go, Rattlesnake Plaintain, Wild Bergamot, Gray Headed Coneflower, Tall Larkspur, Horse-Nettle, White-Top Daisy, Trumpet Honeysuckle, , Rose Pink Arrow leaf, Pickerel Weed, Wild Senna, Wild Petunia Peak, Sweet or Pearly Everlasting, Boneset, Iron Wood, Virgin’s Bower, Canada Goldenrod, Flat-topped Goldenrod, Stiff Goldenrod, Gray Goldenrod, Mistflower, Teasel*, Downy False Foxglove, Spiked Lobelia, Wild Sensitive Plant, Pokeweed, Joe-Pye Weed, Primrose,Thin-leaved Coneflower, Whorled Rosin Weed, Heal-All,* Wingstem, Queen Anne’s Lace,* Common Mullien,* Narrow-leaved Mountain Mint, Lance-leaved Loosestrife, Flowering Spurge, St. John's Wort, Leather Flower, Agrimony.

FAVORITE "BIRD" FEEDER?

This little guy has been flitting around the yard for the last several months. He gets my attention every time, because he seems to crash through the leaf litter and branches louder than any of the other gray squirrels. It makes me smile...every time I see him (or her).

Where are all the birds at the feeder?

Every now and then this winter, as I sat at my desk in front of the family room window, I'd see these three slowly meander down from the woods across the street and check out the seed du jour at the feeder. Unfortunately they never hung around long, due to the cars that fly down the road. I still find it amazing that so many of these large animals (maybe half a million) are hiding all over the place!

EARTH DAY CHALLENGE...

Tuesday, April 22 is Earth Day. Established in 1975 to draw attention to the environmental degradation happening in the United States in the form of water pollution, litter (remember the crying Indian), toxic chemical use, and threatened species extinction. It was also a day set aside in the spring to celebrate the earth and all the gifts it gives us for our survival and joy. Today, it is all but relegated to the back burner of our consciousness, as most of the celebratory energies around this time are given to green beer, colored eggs and bunnies. But the degradation continues and we now have new battles to fight on the horizon.

People today have full, busy schedules and we often do things out of our need for convenience. But sometimes convenience causes us to miss a few important steps along the way. It seems that in our culture, a person’s success is measured by how much they take themselves out of their own lives. We pay other people to clean our homes, cut our grass, do our shopping, and take care of our children. Some of the dots we are supposed to connect go missing, and perhaps we are left with the function of a life but not its true form…not our own heart and soul.

So this Earth Day, I ask you to consider a simple change in your lifestyle…one that could have a huge impact on our environment and in the lives of people all across the world…if we can begin a “movement” in that direction. The challenge is to eliminate purchasing and consuming “bottled water” for yourself or providing it at functions, perhaps saving that money to purchase refillable water containers, and/or a home filtration system. This will give you one, quiet moment each day, as you fill up from your very own tap, to consider the wonder of water. To give thanks that you have it so freely. To consider those who struggle to live in areas of drought. And maybe to pray for those who are at war over access to this precious resource.

I know that buying a weekly case of bottled water from the Pepsi Corporation may seem like a harmless, and even healthy, thing to do, but in reality it is more negatively far-reaching than you may realize. Food & Water Watch has an excellent short article on the Health Myths of bottled water and the ways corporations negatively impact water sources in the US, India and other places around the world. It also sheds light on the staggering numbers of plastic water bottles that end up in landfills. You can find the article at http://www.foodandwaterwatch.org/water/bottled/bottledUp-tappedOut.

At Prairie Pond Woods, we encourage the use of refillable water containers for our day-retreats, putting it on the list of “things to bring.” We hope you will also consider this change in your everyday lives.

March 2008

All week long, a tiny, non-descript yellow-rumped warbler has stationed himself in the maple tree out back; guarding it against the chickadees, titmice, and sparrows trying to take a crack at the bird feeder. He has proven to be quite the energetic warrior. One minute, diving mid-air for an insect snack, and the next, chasing off an intruder. He doesn’t just fly at them, he flies after them, into the nearby trees, presumably to give them a good avian thrashing.

It’s odd because this species, and warblers in general, don’t frequent bird feeders. In fact, I haven’t once seen him land at either of the feeders. He must just think it’s his restaurant, and therefore permitted to run off any bird not up to his standards. I can’t imagine he’d want to claim this active area as his territory, but I hope he sticks around for awhile (if he doesn’t wear out), so I can truly discover, by any change in plumage color, if he is really a he, or not.

Signs that the breeding season is underway were everywhere. A song sparrow staked out his territory on the phone wires near the barn and sang his heart out. Just a few hundred yards away, a field sparrow did the same near the spring source. They will stay there all day, everyday, with slight changes in location, until a female gives them the green light, which could be a month or more! Ah, chivalry!

Migrations were also evident. On Monday, I identified my very first fox sparrows . A beautiful rust-colored bird that I’m betting I’ve mistaken for a female eastern towhee in the past. This afternoon, to my delight, five of them showed up! Another first, was a few rusty blackbirds that flew in with a flock of red-wings.

On a visit to the pond, I could hardly believe it when my suspicions were confirmed…swimming peacefully in the water was a pair of hooded mergansers AND a pair of wood ducks. Weeks ago, I kept thinking that my identification skills must be pretty rusty because I just couldn’t tell which. Now, I find out both species are ther, and today the count was up to 4 pair of hooded mergansers! I think the wood ducks were just on hiatus. They’ll be back.

That’s the thing I love about nature…if you miss a day…you really do miss a lot. So much is going on; small, seemingly insignificant changes happen and the whole landscape is transformed! One day of sunshine arouses out of dormancy individuals, species and whole ecosystems. On Tuesday, when the temperature reached around 72 degrees, I walked to the barn for firewood and began hearing a slight buzzing sound. Looking around, I thought I might spot the first honeybee of the year. Looking down, it appeared the entire ground beneath my feet was moving. Looking outward, there must have been hundreds or thousands of flies in the grass all around me. They weren’t flying, just hopping about, like bunnies. I’m not sure why they were behaving this way, but in spring, nothing gets the motors running like heat, light and sex!

THE CAT & THE BAT

Strays! Every now and then they wander into our lives and test our mettle. Beings at the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong agenda. I don’t know if I deal with strays very well. I do know that I probably don’t deal with them the way most people want me to.

Two weeks ago, upon arriving at Prairie Pond Woods with a friend, there she was, pacing in circles on the front porch, bashing the side of her head onto any hard surface that was near. The proverbial black cat, crossing my path with high-stepping white paws, welcomed us as if we were her long-time owners. “Nice to see you. Now, come pet me,” I anthropomorphically imagined it saying. Yesterday, I returned for a few days and guess who greeted me on the steps?

“Why are you still here” I actually said to it, wondering how and where it survived these last two weeks in mid-winter. I doubted that the little bed I'd made from an old pair of pants or the eight hard-boiled eggs left in a bowl, would have kept her around for long. Surely she would have moved onto greener pastures when no one came out of the house after several days; someplace where there was another hand to feed her. Upon bending down to pet her though, I spotted the feathered carnage next to the bird feeder and realized that, despite my absence of care, she had everything she needed right there. This was no stray. She had made herself right at home-sleeping in some cozy niche in the barn, no doubt, helping herself to this new bird buffet or the smorgasbord of rodents in the prairie. Nope, this was now her big cat residence and I was the stray that showed up on occasion to feed her freezer-burned bacon at the kitchen door.

But all good things must come to an end. Roommates part and go separate ways. In order to save the birds that would soon be migrating through from thousands of miles south to thousands of miles north, and to leave enough meadow voles to feed the local hawks, fox and coyotes, she got crated and taken to the “adoption agency.” The sacrifice of one for the many.

Some people will think this cruel and heartless (especially since the animal control officer told me that most people don’t like to adopt black cats out of dark-age superstition). But a conservative estimate shows that one breeding female cat can have 100 kittens over the course of a 7-year life “on the streets.” This is the real tragedy because out of that one comes countless deaths and horrible suffering, as feral cats are wounded, diseased, and set on a course of killing all day, everyday just to survive. It seemed a reasonable option.

Now the bat…I let live…twice. But I think most people would have bashed it to death upon finding it in their basement the first time, let alone the second. It had obviously made itself at home, as well, literally. Aside from sparing it for its ingenuity in finding the way back in, I let it go because it is a key species in controlling mosquitoes and other bugs in the summer. In contrast to the fecundity of one feral cat, one bat consumes approximately 600 mosquitoes in just an hour.

The first time it was easy to catch. I just covered it with the small wastebasket and slid a clipboard underneath…the way most people would capture a bug on a wall. I knew it would not be difficult because in winter bats enter a state called topor, which is much like hibernation. In this state, their breathing and heart rate slow down, and it leaves them rather groggy when disturbed, if not vulnerable.

But the second time proved a little more dramatic. It was hanging in the corner of the room, no way to cover it without leaving a way to escape. And as willing as I was to do this…I still wasn’t up for having a ticked-off bat flying around the room. So I got out the broom and gently tapped it several times in hopes to knock it down and then cover it.

Talk about your good horror film footage!

That tiny, fuzzy, mouse-like body lifted its head and hissed at me as if I was Vincent Price. What a face! All pointy and bashed in at the same time. I was literally, face to face with this creature of the dark. But then the poor thing tucked its head back down and must have fallen asleep again, so I knew this was going to be an easy fight, barred teeth and all. After several more alternating taps and hissings, it finally fell to the floor, opened its wings and just laid there on its back, trying to muster either a fight or flight response, but unable to do either. I felt really bad about this, wondering if I was doing irreparable harm to its nervous system. I also wondered if it would be able to survive out in the cold weather, since it had already acclimated to the ambient temperature of the basement, which was probably in the 50’s.

The first time, I just set the basket on the side porch, kicked off the clipboard, and shut the door in virtually one motion. The second time, I thought it would be a bit more compassionate to drop it off in the barn, with hopes it might take up residence there. It also clung to the same basket and slept, seemingly peacefully, while I messed around in the barn. By the next day it was gone.

Final Score: Stray Bats: 1, Stray Cats: 0 (or maybe not)

THE NATURE OF GOD - Fall 2007

"...nature is very much a now-you-see-it, now-you-don't affair. A fish flashes, then dissolves before my eyes like so much salt. Deer apparently ascend bodily into heaven; the brightest oriole fades into leaves. These disappearances stun me into stillness and concentration; they say of nature that it conceals with a grand non-chalance, and they say of vision that it is a deliberate gift, the revelation of a dancer who for my eyes only flings away her seven veils."

Annie Dillard
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

A gift like that was given to me several weeks ago in October during the morning hike of a Sharing the Sacred retreat. Having walked the prairie the day before, I knew that almost all the flowers and grasses had gone to seed, except for a few asters and black-eyed Susans scattered about. The temptation was to think that there wouldn't be much to see or "pretty things" to point out on the hike, except for maybe the trees turning color in the hills. But as happens almost every time I go outside (and pay attention), God flung back a veil and showed me something I would never see just sitting inside the house.

And probably something I would never see again.

That day was a bit breezy, sunny but cool, and full of nature's pruning and stirrings. In the fall, some trees lose their leaves more quickly than others, and walnut trees are one of the first to give up their small, yellow leaflets. As we walked down the gravel road, a slight burst of wind sent several of the leaflets fluttering to the ground. I don't know why, but I turned just in time to notice a yellow sulphur butterfly "intercept" one of them and hold on. I wondered if this was just a coincidence, two almost weightless things colliding as the wind shifted, until the butterfly flew up from the grass and did the exact same thing with another leaf that was sailing through the air.

I was flabbergasted...it must have been love at first sight!

THE NATURE OF GOD - Summer 2007

Bidden or unbidden, God is present...Carl Jung

A walk in the prairie always gets me thinking, which is why at Prairie Pond Woods an evening stroll is a top priority. Around 8:00 pm, I check to see whether conditions are right for a good sunset. If the colors and clouds look promising, I’ll take a quick walk on the Refresher Course, just to see what new displays may have emerged, and end up back on the Adirondacks for the evening's grand finale.' Otherwise, I’ll take my time and just meander through the grasses, flowers and cedars, through the woods, and then end at the noisy pond around dusk, all the while letting my mind putter inside my head.

On such a walk the other evening, I thought about this wonderful creation and how much nature is like God (it can’t help be because it is one of God’s expressions) and the many facets we can learn about our Creator through it. Just like the presence of God, nature is all around us but, sadly, most people do not know or understand the very things God has chosen to sustain us in this world. Many of us are unaware of how the natural world regulates our earth’s temperature, provides us with oxygen and other necessary elements, nurtures us with food, and feeds our soul with beauty.

What is this “world” that God so loved he sent Jesus to die for? The Greek word Kosmos means an “orderly arrangement or decoration.” Could it include not only its human inhabitants, but also the soil, sky, water, plants and other animals arranged on it and “decorated” by it? I believe Jesus died for the cosmos, the entire creation, because it is his loving handiwork and he desires to redeem it.

If this is true, perhaps we should pay a bit more attention to the world we live in. We may drive down the road and see “green” on either side, or even take a walk in a park, but not really know what it is that surrounds us; the names of plants or animals, their behaviors and timetables, their fascinating intricacies. And just as with nature, we can have a superficial knowledge and understanding of God, never experiencing the fascinating intimacies God wants to have with us.

The more I learn about nature the more connected I feel to the physical world. Craig sometimes asks me how I can stand always being “tuned in” to the birdsongs all the time. But I find that it actually comforts me to know what it is I see, hear and smell; like being in a room of people whom I’ve already met and whose names I now know. I begin to see the big picture of not only the human community I am part of but also the one made of flora and fauna. I affect it and it affects me.

The same is true in our connection to the world of the spirit. When we spend time with God, and allow the Holy Spirit to speak to our hearts, the more we begin to hear and see spiritual things and recognize sacred moments in our everyday lives. When we stop our routines and allow ourselves time to meditate...on the life of Jesus, on the shortness of our days, on the desires in our souls, or the beauty of a zinnia bud ready to burst open...we are changed.

This connection is possible at any moment and God is always waiting for us to exercise awareness that the Holy Spirit is present. So, I extend a challenge to you for your week. Each evening around 8:30, step outside, by yourself or with someone you love, and watch the sunset. Give God glory for the deep breaths you take in and the Light filtering through the clouds that warms your skin.

Know that God is there…along with all Creation...waiting to be understood.

THE NATURE OF GOD- Spring 2007

Things Are Never As They Seem

One morning in May, I might have gone deaf had God turned up the volume, even just a little, on the bird songs ricocheting through the air. Spring migration seemed to be at its zenith on that clear, warm day with the sun finally shining. The previous two night’s storms probably helped carry many of them up from the south. Surprisingly, thousands of songbirds fly overhead at night in April and May, migrating from Central or South America to breed in the US and Canada. Many of them fly for hours before stopping to feed and rest during the day in the trees (and sometimes feeders) right outside your door. That day, at Prairie Pond Woods, it was a virtual smorgasbord.

As I sat on the deck making notes on nature’s timetables, out of the corner of my eye I (barely) noticed the dark-headed bird at the feeder flashing red and white feathers. I quickly passed it off thinking it was “just a Rufie” (an Eastern Towhee, formerly known as a Rufous-sided Towhee, which is my favorite bird). The male and female had been visiting the feeder frequently the last few days so I continued to write. But something told me to give the feeder a second look. And there they were…three female and one male Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. Nothing is ever as it seems at first glance.

Afer 3 days, the count was up to 6 males and an undetermined number of females volleying back and forth from the feeder to the surrounding pine trees.

Later that day on the deck, one eye on the birds and the other finishing up the book of Matthew, I was struck by the words of the centurion given charge to guard Jesus as he was being crucified. Earlier, he probably saw Roman soldiers mocking Jesus’ “make-believe royalty” and heard Jewish leaders taunting him saying, “You saved others, save yourself.”

But when the mid-day sky turned dark and ominous, after an earthquake resurrected the dead, and after Jesus cried out, “Father into your hands I commit my Spirit,” the centurion was compelled to take a second look. Perhaps when his fear of danger outweighed the fear of his fellow soldiers, he finally asked, "Who was this man, really?" The humble man, he remembered, who never once defended himself, though innocent of the charges for which he was dying? The powerful man, who he'd heard made sick people well again with just a word? And the gracious man, who gave “good news" to the discouraged and hopeless people on the fringe?

In response to what must have been a terrifying realization, his only words recorded were, “Surely this was the Son of God.” Nothing is ever as it seems…

Madelline L’Engle calls awareness “a discipline that must be developed.” It involves the work of paying attention, taking time for attentiveness, beyond our first impressions. Perhaps it involves asking questions, like Jesus did, and praying for discernment. The world is a complicated place. We are complex people. And the truth about someone or a situation is often masked behind layers of things; things that God wants to either deliver us from or make us sensitive to. So cultivate the habit of taking a second look. Look beyond...you may find something worth the effort.

May 2007