It is said that there are signs of beauty everywhere if we only have eyes to see them. One of the surprising joys of having everyone stay home for the past 2 months is that nature is finding ways to reclaim spaces that were thought to be permanently ruined by human actions.
Although some of the stories going around - like those about dolphins swimming in the canals of Venice - have proven to be false, it is definitely true that the air is cleaner over large cities and wildlife are making appearances in urban settings.
Usually I only get to see squirrels around my yard or the occasional racoon, but I know there are more animals around because I see their tracks in the winter snow or the soft dirt of my garden. Earlier this month I watched an enormous wild turkey saunter down my neighbour’s laneway, as casual as if he owned the place. Thursday morning a deer dashed across my yard and disappeared down the escarpment trail. Wildflowers bloom where no one planted them, birds sing at sunrise and sunset. When I see and hear these wonderful sights, I find myself holding my breath in awe of the persistence of God’s creation.
We have been in isolation a long time and it is not unusual that we might feel down, alone and dark at times. But keep looking for the beauty, keep on finding joy where you can. We will get through this with each other and with God’s creative hand.
I found inspiration this week in this prayer from Nadia Bolz-Weber about finding worship in ordinary experiences:
I do not know when we can gather together again in worship, Lord.
So, for now I just ask that:
that it be counted as praise. (Happy 70
th
Birthday, SW!)
And that when I read the news and my heart tightens in my chest,
may it be counted as a prayer of confession.
And that when my eyes brighten in a smile behind my mask as I thank the cashier,
may it be counted as passing the peace.
And that when I water my plants and wash my dishes and take a shower,
may it be counted as remembering my baptism.
And that when the tears come and my shoulders shake and my breathing falters,
may it be counted as prayer.
And that when I stumble upon an uplifting video and hear a message of grace and love of you,
may it be counted as a hearing a homily.
And that as I sit at my table, and eat one more homemade meal, slowly, joyfully, with nothing else demanding my time or attention,
may it be counted as communion.
Amen.
Kathi
