Spring is the season of renewal, new life, rebirth.  Out in my side garden the crocuses are just about finished.  And surprise - a lone crocus has come up in my front garden patch.  How did it get there?  Crocuses are not spread by seeds blowing in the wind, but by the bulb dividing.  The crocus patch spreads outwards, but doesn't spring up somewhere else.  Unless . . . unless a squirrel or grackle dug up a bulb, carried it some distance away, around a corner, and then, for some reason, dropped it.  Thank the squirrel for a new flower in a new location - new life - creation.  

In the back, next to the basement wall, the rhubarb is starting to come up.  Just humps of red now that will soon spread open to green leaves.  

And the snow is melting off my vegetable garden, while buds swell on the trees, and the maple sap is slowing to a near stop.  

In the Bible creation started with a garden.  It is in the garden that I feel creative this time of year.   I do not have a big garden patch.  I do not have the physical strength, or the tools to look after a garden big enough to sustain my family through the year.  But I can grow a few vegetables, and have fresh, pesticide free, vegetables for my table through the summer.  (No carbon footprint of transporting them from distant growers)    Perhpas more important I can show my little grandson, and remind my teenage granddaughter, that the food we eat comes from the soil, the sun and the rain that God provides - and that it takes a little sweat equity on our part. 

I can't save the planet.  I can't stop the wars, prevent the ice cap from melting (except by my small part in recycling and with my vote for a better government with the power to do what I can't).  I can't do anything about the earthquakes and tsunimies, or the floods that are threatening Manitobe right now.  But I can work in my garden to bring beauty and a few vegies to my little corner of the world. 

 Is there a park, tree, or flower near me that causes Spirit to whisper to me, "Let my Spirit move over this place, and through you, bring life"?

How do I find God continuing the work of creation through me?

I still have the lichen that gave me inspiration through the winter... with its mysterious, mutually sustaining  marriage of fungus and algae. And, apart from the farm bikes, four wheelers and snowmobiles,, the Confederation Trail on P.E.I. offers blessed spaces year-round and we walk there often. (WHY must noisy, smelly, fast machines play such a core role in Canadian recreation?) And the beaches have their special, powerful Spirit presence.

But the first thing, the most immediate to me, and the most deeply felt thing in the context of hearing the Spirit’s whisper is, for me, not a park, tree, or flower near me, but something very deeply embedded in my consciousness.

Dear to my soul is the mako shark.

I had an amazing encounter with one in my late teens: it was one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. (I did a lot of skindiving in my New Zealand youth.) A Maori elder helped me to bind this fleeting experience, along with various other aspects of my experience and awareness, into a discernment of my “kaitiaki” (the idea of a “guardian angel” helps to explain the term). I “know” that it will be my mako that takes my soul “home” when the time comes.

A mako is not “just” a shark. It is incredibly fast, intelligent and graceful. It is a magnificent creature with a vibrant presemnce. But like all sharks it has lots to teach us. Most importantly, perhaps, we should remember that sharks satiate in ways that make a food chain based on predation sustainable. When a shark has fed, there’s nothing fearsome about it, not even to its usual prey. Sharks do not keep feeding once they have eaten sufficiently. We do. We have an economic system that encourages us to store consumption capacity as savings or investments in ways that make predation endless… and unsustainable, not only for us but for our world.

We even predate sharks. We slaughter them recklessly and fear them in ways that no sense at all. More than 70 million a year, and world shark populations have slumped. One third of shark species are considered endangered.

But we still get hysterical about sharks, as though they threaten us personally. We portray them as ravening destroyers, whilst finding cats, for example — which DO kill wantonly — “cute”. Of all of the millions of people who venture into seas and oceans around all of the world, in a year fewer than 100 are likely to be attacked by a shark. Of those — because sharks seem not to “like” the taste of people — it’s is unusual for more than a dozen to actually die.

When you look at where attacks happen, almost all are in warmer water (which steps up a shark’s metabolism and makes it respond more quickly), where scents in the water are confusing or exciting to sharks (sharks hunt by scent), where the water is murky because fine sand is being churned up by surf, or because of runoffs from land, or other pollution, and around or close to places where preferred prey (like seals) hang out. They also respond to electromagnetic stimuli  — a crowd of surfers or bathers will confuse this sense. Sharks see least well directly ahead of themselves. Most shark attacks involving people are accidental.

Sharks are important in the whole marine ecosystem.

Please don’t let false stereotypes hold you back from seeking their protecton.

Mike - you make me think about sharks in a whole different way.

The park that comes to mind is a small and beautiful place known as Arbutus Cove. From the parking lot you walk down a grassy hill. If you veer to the left you will find a picnic table with a view of the ocean. If you choose to turn to the right, you'll find a steep staircase leading down to a beach. There's rarely any people there and I have never seen more than a dozen.There are lots of logs to sit on and an incredible view of the San Juan Islands (the American counterparts to our Gulf Islands). On a clear day you can easily see the mainland and Mount Baker. If you're lucky, you might see a seal or a heron. It's a place that I go to collect my thoughts. It's a place in the city that feels like a nature retreat. It's a place that I can get to easily where I can feel closer to God.

I'm not really sure how God is continuing the work of creation through me. I suspect it might be through my work with children. Today, during our circle time in Sunday School, I sat with a young child as she grieved the loss of her beloved dog - at age 7 this is her first experience of death. During our session time I taught twin 8 year old girls about Lent and together we wondered about Good Friday. I hope that in some way my work with these children will have an effect on their lives. Only God knows what they will go on to do in their lives, but I hope that I have helped to be open to whatever lies in store for them and that they too will find ways to continue the work of God's creation.

Here are some pictures that I found of Arbutus Cove online:

 Good morning. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions for today's reading from Rising with the Morning Star. Thank you.

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Again the frustration with the short snippit of scripture chosen for the day.  It took me a bit to place it in my mind - before the flood, not during or as a result of the flood. 

Checking the Bible it is easy to see that Chapter 6 contains an introduction from one source, then a shorter introduction from another before continuing on to the story of Noah and the flood.  The first seven verses contain pictures of a world of 'sons of God' mating with 'daughters of mortals', that seems more fitting for a fantasy novel.  It is a scene that causes God to declare that he will blot out all of creation because 'I am sorry that I have made them'.   But then verse 8 offers hope, Noah found favour in the sight of God.

The corruption in the first few verses is summed up in Verse 11:   "Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was filled with violence."   And the chapter, and those that follow, goes on to tell the story.  

Today, though we are asked to dwell on 'and the earth was filled with violence'.  And it is true.  Today we can hardly watch the news without being overwhelmed with the violence we see in too many countries around the globe.   It makes me feel helpless and afraid.  What can one insignificant senior do in the midst of so much violence, hatred, fear and violence?  

Where is there hope?  What power do we have to make changes in our world?  How might grace have a role? 

Right now, I think of the power each one of us has in casting a ballot in the upcoming election.  We can voice our opinion, among many others, about which party we think comes closer to holding our views and that puts people and justice issues ahead of power and economics.   Although it is a small step, I think it is an important one. 

And I myself can have some influence over how I think and act in the face of violence and rumours of violence.  I can go about my life trusting in the love and goodness of God.  I can resist evil.  I can speak up, even in my own small circle.  I can try to reduce my spending, to live within my means, to share with others, and to keep my footprint upon the earth as small as possible.   And, by the grace of God, I might influence a few others to do the same. 

And I can remember that even in the darkest times, God is with us.  God does not desert us.  When the Hebrew people went as captives to Babylon, God went with them.  God was with them in their suffering and their exile.  No matter what happens, God is with me.

Thank you, seeler, for saying so well what I was thinking in response to the question of what power we have to make change in a world of human discord and environmental destruction.

What else can any of us do but do what we can, whenever we can, in our daily lives. The great despair I often feel for what's happening in the world doesn't give me permission to opt out, to feel like the problems are so bad I can't make a difference. I have to make personal changes, and find like-minded people to work on larger changes. 

When it comes to easing discord, one personal change I'm working very hard on is driving with civility. I have a 50-minute commute twice a day--plenty of time to get bent out of shape from reckless drivers OR plenty of time to let my anger go, to give other drivers a break when I can. Small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, I know. But something.

Well  said, Seeler and Rebekah.  In my peace movement days, a common theme was the need to foster spirit in our hearts and lives at the same time as working for peace in the world.  I was always disappointed by peace activists who sabotaged (sp?) their worl for peace by acts of violence.  Grace is in the capacity to nurture peace within and without in spite of incentives to do otherwise, such as in Rebekah's example.  It usually also comes with a strong sense of connection to God/Jesus/Spirit which encourages and reminds.

 What power do we have to make change in our world, filled as it is with human discord and environmental degradation? How might grace also have a role in effecting change?

When we work at building our faith, we may not see it at first, but the mingling of love and insight begins to radiate into the awareness of others. If we are angry, greedy and grasping, that too will sway people around us.

We are much more complicit in shaping the world we live in than rational, joined-up, cause-and-effect thinking might tempt us to believe. When we place peace, for example, at the centre of our faithfulness, it is not just peace that others see. When we place love at the centre of our faithfulness, it is not just love that people around us experience. When we nurture beauty in our faith lives, the world will become more beautiful, not least because we will be more aware of it. (And so will others; people turn their attention where they see other gazes drawn.)

AND, most importantly, there is always a little wonder in the mix; and wonder is wonderfully destabilising to any who would wield fear or violence as a social or political tool.

Grace is evident in providing us with people to support, encourage and talk about... people who give us contexts for our our voices, hopes and journeying: people like our friends, mentors, colleagues and neighbours to whom we are drawn or with whom we feel in harmony, and people further afield... people of the present day... like Evo Morales, for example. The witness of people who risk seeking good in the world is not borne carried into wider notice by themselves alone; it rises on the hopes and inspired longings of others. None of us are perfect and none of need to be into order to help heal the world. We each just need to interact out of our faith-seeking hearts.

None of us knows who the standard bearer of our hopes will be but, if we act out of love and faith, fearlessness and honesty, we can be sure there will be one. Grace will see to it.

I had very similar thoughts to Seeler and Rebekah.

We have the power to make choices - decisions that can make a change in our world. The most obvious example of this is our choice about whom to vote for at election time. As I approach the polling station, I will be considering which candidate and party has the values that most closely match up to my own. High on my list of priorities are policies on the environment and international affairs. Other choices that we can make that can make a difference can include what products we purchase and what charitable organizations we support. I think that's where grace comes in. Do I choose to purchase the cheapest soap or the one that is biodegradable? Should I buy the fruit that's trucked in from California or should I wait for the local fruit to be ready? There are many wonderful charitable organizations and it can be hard to choose the one that is the best fit. In this case the choice is between giving a little to many organizations and giving a lot to one or two. What exactly is that donation? It could be money, time, "in kind" donations or any combination of the three. Grace can also come in during a conversation or debate - it comes in using gentle words of persuasion.

Sometimes we may feel that we are powerless, but it seems to me that the opposite is true. Sometimes we just need to be reminded; to be inspired to use that power. When we use our power to make changes in the world, great things can happen!

 Good morning. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions for today's reflection from Rising with the Morning Star. Thank you all for your contributions.

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Again, this morning's writings are so evocative, as are your comments of the past couple of days.

Yesterday I spent an hour being interviewed by a national newspaper reporter. He's a good soul who's trying to understand why religious leaders such as myself put a priority on environmental concerns.  It was yet another opportunity (I always try to take an abundant view) of holding and trying to describe the tensions of both reason and mystery. I told him that it wasn't the job of faith to argue with what science is revealing, and yet neither was it our job to be limited to scientific, rational understanding because faith is the experience and language of heart and soul,; it is about the realities of Holy Mystery and Hope.

These are days when both hearts and minds are being broken open to deeper understanding and truth. So in answer to the first two questions: YES! In response to the third question, I see both Earth and Church/the Body of Christ rising to new life in this season.

Can we allow our hearts to be broken open to the awe of creation? Can we feel in our physical bodies, imperfect as they are, the mystery of their creation? What do we see when we walk about the earth?

There’s an unfortunate view of science in today’s summary: “caught up in our stressful lives, with a scientific understanding of how the world works” etc. It’s a perspective I find deeply unhelpful. Our problems do include a technological attitude to the world, crass materialism, a self-centredness, greed and an insupportable sense of entitlement… but science is a potential liberator from all of this.

If “god” is incapable of revealing “godself” to us in any way “god” pleases, the “god” we’re listening to is of no account.

We have ears for art, for politics, for philosophy, for theology, for personal experience… why should any “religious” person close his or her mind to science? Because science does not take the existence of “god” as the launch pad of inquiry? If it did that, we could say goodbye to mystery altogether. In fact, science and all it studies is wholly encompassed by “godness”; why should the study of nature be inimical to the study of religion? Science and religion are simply separate languages with different rationales, purposes and methods. Both can feed our faith.

Scientific understanding is a potent source of awe and of realisation exactly how damaging our stressful lives and abuse of the planet in fact are.

One of the obstacles to awe and faith is scientific illiteracy: a failure to engage with scientific ideas.

Science tells us, for example, that punishment is no deterrent to crime, that fat incentives and bonuses do not improve financial services (and even impair them), and that co-operation is stronger, more effective and efficient than competition. Science tells us HOW we are damaging the planet and how seriously. Science reminds us that we are bringing about extinctions at a rate of about three species a day, and that all life on earth is related and entangled in interdependencies. It tells us we urgently need to implement new sources of energy. Science tells us how stunningly beautiful the universe is and how much vaster and more perplexing than our imaginings.

Science constantly challenges our assumptions, certainties, categories, principles, ideas and conceits… and its own. And good science does not pretend to utter iron-clad “truths”. Science is an expression of human curiosity and creative impulse; is is not about “knowing” everything.

Here’s a recent statement, for example, by an applied mathematician at Cornell University, Steven Strogatz: “We’ve had a period of a few hundred years or so when humans could understand things in a very satisfying way. That period may be coming to an end.” Science recognises the horizons of human understanding with far more humility than most religious leaders.

And we still hear religious ideas about a limited, drab and controlling “god” and we have others, including some “scientists” who tell us there is no god.

God does not fit in boxes. The word “god” (and ALL the names of “god”) is a way to bring the incomprehensible into conversation; it is a way to engage with the mysteries of existence and the puzzles of personal experience; it is a time-free vehicle for thousands of years of slowly accumulated human wisdom; “god” is a context within which we can explore the meaning of our own and wider human experience.

“God” is NOT a being we can influence in our own personal interests; but “god” is a way we can attune our personal interests to the mysteries that surround us. In that way, we can find fulfilment. In our wisest moments, we experience “god” as love. But this “god” loves indiscriminately… and science has come to a keener understanding of this than much theology.

So OF COURSE we can allow our hearts to be “broken open to the awe of creation”… in fact, that’s the healthy norm. Can we feel in our physical bodies the mystery of their creation? Science, I would suggest, helps us enormously to realise this.

What do we see when we walk about the earth? Surfaces, shadows and illusions… our perceptual systems are limited and partial. What IS it that we are looking at? We are looking at parables of the universe. We are looking at manifestations of “god” in the fine print of creation, we are looking at “truth”.

We do not have the means to fully experience of explain or understand it, but we can let it touch our awareness and turn our hearts to the meanings of “god”. WE can allow ourselves to fall in love with the source of those enriching symphonies of meaning with which the universe rings.

And, when we WORK at attuning our being to that meaning, and liberating ourselves from our certainties, we’re bound to encounter love… and to be challenged to mould our “selves” to it.

Yes, Mike, science is one pathway to having one's heart broke open with awe at the wonder and mystery of creation.  The more that is learned, for example, about the process of hereditary memory and functioning in our chromosomes, the more awe I feel about life itself.  Somehow a cell can detect a change in its external environment that results in one or a few genes out of tens of thousands being activated to lead to the production of the right protein molecules needed to respond to that change, all done by a variety of mindless molecules randomnly bouncing around.

Watching our rose bloom in October after snow in September; watching an infant learn and engage the world; so many moments to experience awe.  I wish those with little science background could learn more about appreciating the limits of science and the wonders of the world.

Jim:

It's fascinating me right now that, instead of having more genes that make us :different" from other animals, it's actually having fewer genes, partcularly in the "regulatory" areas of the chromosome... instead of the 100,000 genes geneticists used to suspect we'd need to function, the estimate's fallen away to 20,000 or so.

A bunch of scientists (Cory Y. McLean, Philip L. Reno, Alex A. Pollen, Abraham I. Bassan, Terence D. Capellini, Catherine Guenther, Vahan B. Indjeian, Xinhong Lim, Douglas B. Menke, Bruce T. Schaar, Aaron M. Wenger, Gill Bejerano & David M. Kingsley) published a paper in the March issue of Nature called "Human-specific loss of regulatory DNA and the evolution of human-specific traits" that shows the loss in humans of more than 500 pieces of DNA sequencing that other creatures have stuck with... and it's the losses that seem to hel us be "human". No-one knows what all this means yet, but I find it intriguing (no... it's not in the Bible yet.)

The simple answers to these questions, for me, are similar to what Mardi said: yes, yes and incredible things.

When I experience nature, I allow my heart to be broken open by its' wondrous beauty and unstoppable power. I remember the first time I saw a whale in it's natural habitat - I was completely transfixed and filled with awe. Often, when I go for a hike, I find my breath being taken away as I go around a corner and see a new view. When I was small, I would lie on my back, in my backyard, and stare up at the sky. I would feel so small and like such an inadequate part of God's creation. I would feel like there were no barriers between myself and God - like God was somewhere only just out of sight. It was simultaneously a troubling, terrifying and awesome feeling. I could never stare at the sky for more than a couple of minutes.

So much about my body is a mystery to me. I marvel at my ability to heal myself. When I get a cut or a bruise, it does not stay like that forever (although I used to wonder what people would look like if their bruises never healed). Somehow I am able to heal myself. I also wonder at my brain and how exactly it works. These are mysteries that I will never know the answers to.

As I walk about the Earth, I usually choose to focus on the positive things that I see. I focus on the beauty - of people and of nature. I would rather think about people who help each other than people who hurt each other. I would rather spend time thinking of ways to help God's creation than ways to damage it.

 Good morning. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions from Rising with the Morning Star for today. Thank you.

Psalm 65 is ironic…thanks to higher sea temperatures having led to more evaporation and, therefore, more water in the atmosphere, global rainfall in 2010 was the highest on record, ever, and for many people in many parts of the World it was catastrophic. Rather than enriching, it impoverished. Water came, as in Noah’s time, as a warning rather than a blessing. Why are we so destructively deaf to it, so morbidly fixated on ourselves and our misled notions of comfort, as though our children’s children do not matter?

Where is there abundance in my life I have failed to notice? If I’ve failed to notice it, how would I know?

But I was prompted to the following reflection:

I’m sure the emphasis that’s usually put on the first Judaeo-Christian creation story — the first passage in Exodus  — is all wrong.

Genesis starts with a bit of a plod through this and that being “created” — it has the feeling of one of those preambles about three men and a monkey walking into a pub: the set-up for a punch-line. It starts by switching on the lights then goes blah-blah-blahdy- blah, past grass and fish, birds and fast breeding, cows and creepy-crawlies — and, remember, pastoral nomads back then were happy to spend hours sitting around their campfires listening to this stuff — and, just before “he” makes people, God looks around and —YIPES! “it was very good”.

That’s the perfectly timed punch line, the story’s twist, the surprise ignition point for a worthwhile take on the world. It is at that point the whole of the faiths that would follow are given ignition: not just a starting point but a central, meaning-laden assertion.

The NEXT day, “god” went and made a man, who starting complaining, then a woman to keep him quiet and they screwed up, raised screwed-up kids, including a fratricidal farmer who’d have been dead set against the long gun registry… suddenly it's 2011...

So where did the "very good" go?.

And… where is the abundance I've failed to notice?

I am sure there’s a lot I’ve failed to notice — an enormous amount — but I feel pressed to acknowledge the abundance I have noticed.

My prayer of gratitude

My soul swells with gratitude that

each moment’s as full as I dare to allow…

that every experience I enter into

releases me from the less-that-was yesterday;

that every colour reveals beauty…

that every form, intricate or simple,

overflows with beauty and consolation;

that smells lead me into theatres of of intimacy,

and intricacies to visions of infinity;

that sounds unleash new insights

and flavours lure me into imaginings,

while textures weave me into connections

and motion carries me to continuities.

My soul swells with gratitude

That all of this is life and wonder,

point and purpose;

... that all of this is mine,

all woven into one…

and all of this is god.

It seems to me that in the last decade I have been taught to fear.  Fear strangers, fear foreigners, especially those from the middle-east, fear different religions, but most of all, in recent years, to fear the failure of our economic system.   Yes, I'm told, I have a lot to worry about.  But most of all, I should worry about the economic system.  In fact I should be so worried that I am willing to give up many of my rights and freedoms to support the economic system.    Because if I don't, then I might face poverty.    But the economic system works best if we can be convinced that there is scarcity - that there isn't quite enough to satisfy our wants and needs, and therefor we have to do what we can to grab and protect our share, even if it means sacrificing our ideals. 

But then I consider the question:  what is enough?  

Perhaps I'm lucky.  I grew up in poverty.  I shared a small bedroom with slanting ceilings on both sides with two sisters.  My brother slept in a hallway at the head of the stairs.  We walked to school, the post office, the store.   And this time of year, while we awaited the first tastes of spring, we broke sprouts off wilting potatoes to boil, along with a bit of carrots, and maybe a 1/2 slice of balona.  

But then spring would arrive.  We would tap a few maples for sap.  We would pick fiddleheads, and catch trout, and feast.  We would plant a backyard garden.  We would find wild strawberries along the sides of the dirt roads, and later on blueberries from the fields and raspberries from the clearing in the woods, and in the fall we hoped that Dad would shoot a deer to provide meat for the winter. 

We shared our good fortune with our neighbours and we were thankful for the abundance that God provided.

Now we live in the city.  I shop at a coop store that offers a wide variety of products including fresh fruit and vegies year round, and with a little planning and watching for specials I can afford to buy it.  I live in a modest bungalow.  I have an empty room (for grandchildren and other visitors).  Another room is given over to my computer.  And I complain that I don't have enough space to put everything, when the problem isn't the lack of space but the over abundance of stuff.     My mother would think I am rich.     Most of the people in the world would think so too.

I chose to create the first part of my entry in the form of a prayer today.

God, thank you for all the gifts of abundance you have given me. Thank you for the loved ones whom I hold dear and who have brought pleasure to my life. Thank you for the home that I live in and the friend that I share it with. Thank you for the country that I live in - sometimes I fail to acknowledge how lucky I am to live in this land - and all of the freedoms and responsibilities that come with living here. God, thank you for the abundance of nature. I am grateful for plants that provide oxygen, food and a shady place to rest under on a hot summer day. I am grateful for water that allows plants to grow and people to survive. I am grateful for each breath I can take and for clean air to fill my lungs. I am grateful for animals which provide me with food to eat and beauty to marvel at. God, please help me to remember to be thankful for all of the abundance in my life. Amen.

Years ago I remember seeing a Family Circus cartoon in which the mother is thinking of her family. Her eyes are closed and there is a thought bubble above her head with the words, "thank you" in it. The next picture is a heavenly scene with one angel asking another, "What did she want?" The first angel responds, "Nothing all she said was thank you!" In the background an angel chorus is singing "hallelujah." That cartoon got me thinking and since that time I have been much more diligent about expressing my gratitude to God.

 Greetings. Here is the reading for today from the book, Rising with the Morning Star. Thank you.

Yesterday and today seem connected - quotes taken from the Psalms, reflections on nature, abundance, the fruit of God's work.  And yes, my spirit really can say to God "I am satisfied by the fruit of your work".   I am satisfied with the abundance that the earth produces.  It is just that we people seem to get it fouled up sometimes - our husbandry leaves a lot to be wanted. 

When I was a kid I was never bothered with a bruised or blemished skin on an apple - I cut (or bit) it out and ate the rest - carefully eating around the core because there might be a worm.  Wild raspberries where picked over carefully looking for worms.  Now, it seems people would rather have their fruit sprayed with poisons than to watch out for a worm.  

Brooks, rivers, ponds, lakes were once there for the enjoyment of all - now they are fenced off - maybe that's a good thing to keep us away from the poluted water.   Forests and natural vegetation controlled run off - now we have the cycle of floods and droughts.  

I am satisfied with the fruits of the earth.  I am concerned about our interference.   How can I work with others and with nature to appreciate, rather than harm, the earth, our home?

 Can my spirit really say to God, “I am satisfied by the fruit of your work”?

I’m still opening the parcel.

I was embarked on life’s journey by my parents with no money but a burning curiosity.

It’s coming up 40 years since I met the love of my life and that love blooms more than ever, and in ways that I could never have imagined. She is more than anything I’d have dared to seek in another person. Moreover, she has faithfully tended my undisciplined spirit and given me ways to strengthen my faith that open me to more and more of life.

I have tried to follow her lead in life (as a minister, she has moved around “a bit”) and, as well as fulfilling emotions and aspirations I never thought I had, it led me into opportunities and periods of employment I could not have imagined: like producing a magazine about bagpipes: a low paid job that took me all around Europe — not to the cities and sights but into all sorts of communities and all sorts of experiences, from partying with desperately poor Islamic Rom (Gypsies) in Bulgaria to days on the Mediterranean aboard a luxury yacht, from the poor side of Latvia to the wild side of Germany — but mostly into many warm, far-flung friendships. I was often humbled by hospitalitality and brought to tears of joy. It has also given me countless unexpected opportunities, to write, to teach and to put people in touch with each other in fruitful ways...

Everywhere, I keep meeting good, interesting and generous people; never have we gone seriously hungry or desperately poor, though we have survived a few weeks at a time on very little, experienced a year of trying to make life full on the meagre British unemployment benefit (it was easier for us than we thought: we walked). But we knew these times would pass. We also know it’s possible to live happy and fulfilling lives off the power grid: for four years, we lived in a one-room cabin with a rain tank, an outdoor loo and a wood stove… and it was wonderful. Little pains, injuries, hurts, affronts and losses come and go, but the flow is deep and true and does not stop.

EVERYHING has always been far above our  threshold of need, and all of it has filled our lives with good things.

Am I satisfied? No way! It’s been my appetite for “full immersion” experience that’s brought me thus far on my journey. I don’t see any shortage of opportunities for new experience, and no reason to diminish my demands. I am very needy: I need beauty, I need a world that is more just, more comapssionate and more considerate; I need opportunities to be fascinated, I need opportunities to be moved to laughter and to tears and to find new friendships, and to find new ideas to incorporate into my cooking, my writing and my life. I want to see a better world made my better people. So… No. I am not satisfied. And I am not repentant about these needs; my excuse would be to claim that they arise out of love.

Am I really awed by the natural creation of which I one tiny part?

Awe comes to me not by being a tiny little obscure part of the “natural creation” so much as my efforts to make tiny parts of the universe’s mysteries and vastnesses a part of me.

When I try to take in and live with the implications of absolute boundaries drawn by the speed of light; the fickle hermaphroditism of a snail, the passing shadow of a sea trout in a nearby stream; the mass of little consciousnesses that press at the window pane when spring’s cluster flies emerge; the sheen of a beach pebble; the dogwood stem’s particular shade of crimson; the rootless grace of my “domesticated” lichen; the complexities of an itch on my arm… I can feel I am bursting with awe.

How do I reveal that awe?

I try to share delight, insight, passion and faith.

Yes, I can say to God, "I am satisfied by the fruit of your work." How could I not be? The Earth is stunningly beautiful and awe-inspiring. How could I look at a waterfall, or a green meadow, and not be awed by God's creation?

Even on a small scale, God's work is awesome. The sun yellow daffodils blooming in my front garden knock my socks off.

I am absolutely in awe of God's creation. It astounds me every day. Somehow it works, but I have no idea as to how or why. Things seem to work in harmony with one another - trees produce oxygen for people to breathe and people produce carbon dioxide for the trees. I reveal that awe when I experience it with another person. I have been known to pause a conversation with a friend to point out something like a radiant sunset or a breath-taking vista. I have been known to point out earth worms and insects to children and to talk about how incredible those creatures are. I am absolutely satisfied by the fruits of God's labour.

 Good morning. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions from Rising with the Morning Star for today. Thank you.

Try writing your own prayer seeking the One who "clothes the grass of the field" (Matthew 6:30) to also surround you with the comfort and wisdom you need to heal and to help heal.

I reflect on this teaching -- the whole teaching and I look around. Worry? I feel less worry than a burning frustration. A prayer is sought? For what we have already been given but have emphatically turned down?

We have painstakingly made and cling tenaciously to the antithesis of the teaching. Read it in its entireity:

From verse 24:

"No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.

"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day."

It's a Lament that today's reflection stirs in my heart:

The gift is given

and we are clothed:

Life is bestowed,

 we huddle in the tomb.

Love engulfs us,

 we are unmoved.

Joy leaps around us,

 we cherish disappointment.

Peace is a wide, green plain

we dare not enter.

Freedom is offered,

it terrifies us.

And we are too busy

 for gratitude.

We are not your people!

We are slaves to the empire

we’ve made of our meanness.

 But, go ahead... forgive us

should we ever pause to ask it. 

Leo Tolstoy wrote:

"The most difficult thing -- but an essential one -- is to love life, to love it even while one suffers, because life is all, life is God and to love life means to love God."

I am not someone who is a perpetual worrier. I am far more likely to sit back, relax, and let things happen. If something is out of my control, why waste too much time worrying about it? For me, worrying is stressful and unhealthy. I try to focus on things that are within my control - I cannot save the planet, but I can put my recycling into a bin. I cannot be with a child to protect them twenty four hours of the day, but I can let authorities know if I think they might need help. I try to remember to, "let go and let God."

I live with worry every day of my life.

And just sometimes - some of the things I worry about actually happen.

But, despite this, I have learnt a painful lesson -  the worst things that happen seem to come from nowhere, and weren't anticipated.

From when I was a child my method to control my worry was to say to myself, "Speak your fear aloud and it won't happen".

Thus, when my much loved sister rang me in her thirties and told me she could no longer wiggle her toes, I knew it was serious.

I played my worry game - and came up with multiple sclerosis. I was wrong - it was terminal motor neurone disease.

When my husband had a low white cell count the worst scenario in my eyes was lymphoma or some chronic form of leukaemia. I was wrong - it was terminal acute myaloid leukaemia.

So, nobody undertands more than me the futility of worry - but, according to my doctor, a combination of genetics and environment have given me a raw deal.

How do I manage it?    Here's my list.

1. I take daily a prescribed maintenance dose of Zoloft.

2. I exercise daily and eat well, and ensure I get enough rest.

3. I make good use of my sense of humour.

4. I don't keep my worries to myself - just sharing them is often all it needs to make them either dissipate or become manageable.

5 .I try and create some distance between the worry and myself - one "trick" if I'm laying awake at 3 a.m., is to imagine that I'm up on the ceiling looking down at me worrying.

6. Here's one supplied by my doctor - remind myself that I'm not the little girl of my childhood overwhelmed with responsibility - but an adult who can cope with most things thrown her way.

7. Make myself a cup of tea - and say, "This, too, shall pass."

8. Have a wee chat with God and ask Him to be my companion. That can give me the strength required to cope.

As you can see, worry and I are together in a lifetime war of attrition.

But, with God's help, I'm gaining ground. 

I try to ask myself what is the worst thing that can happen in a particular situation.  Then I ask what I could do about that event, and there is always some kind of response available.  Then I focus on what I need to do, or want to do.

Pilgrim - what a wonderful way you have outlined for us to cope with our worries. Except for #1 which has been perscribed specifically for you, I will try to adopt it.   I will have to struggle with #4.  I have a hard time sharing my worries with those close to me.  Perhaps that is one of the reasons I love the Cafe.  I can come here and share my worries with real people who are not right here beside me.  But perhaps I need to share the serious ones with my husband and children more than I do.   

 Good morning. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions from Rising with the Morning Star for today. Thank you.

One small step to save the planet?

Today I worked at the church rummage sale.  How does this 'save the planet'?   By recycling.   Mr. Seeler and I took two big boxes and a couple of bags of stuff down to the church in the last few days - clothing and other things that we no longer have any use for.  They could have gone to the land fill site.  Instead they went to the church, along with boxes and bags of stuff from other homes.  Yesterday (when I wasn't there) and this morning we worked at the tables.  Much of what I sold went for anywhere from a nickle to fifty cents.  Toys, books, clothing, household items.  Sometimes if the person looked like they needed it I threw in a few extras - mugs went for a quarter apiece but if the person told me that they were shopping for a student, or if they were from our drop in centre, I would sell them four for $.50.   One person I know, a volunteer worker, came to me with a lampshade, told me that she needed it for her bedroom lamp - I know she is somewhat challanged and works as a school crossing guard.  I told her it was a bonus for donating her time.  Someone else bought an entire set of dishes (still in the box) for a woman moving from the shelter to her own apartment - $5.00.  

Even at these 'give away' prices the church made money for its downtown outreach programs,  and quite a pile of stuff was kept out of the landfill.

Small contribution - but we can hope that every little bit helps.  Using the pruning metaphore - I pruned my closets.

I've just about rationalised myself into buying a NEW bike. I have an old 10-speed I got for $5 at a garage sale. But it has no brakes and has become in various ways un-urban. Last summer, the brakes issue  -- there's a dog and some bad language in the long version of the story -- pitched me in a ditch with an ankle injury that turned a bit ugly and hobbled me for a while. 

It's been okay here in the remoter parts of PEI and the Mounties have other things to do than chase odd old guys on menace machines that don't involve eight-cylinder engines... but we're moving to Kingston this summer and I don't think the OPP or the Kingston City Police are likely to be as accommodating as our local RCMP detatchment. Besides, my old bike has become inherently dangerous to ride and, while the unpredictability that goes with its declining condition (like a tendency for the seat to suddenly drop 10 inches or for the handle bars to waggle around uselessly) adds a certain frisson to "taking the bike for a ride", it would not be as amusing in traffic as it is on the trail up here... and I can't really afford the fines or hospitalisation that collisions would entail.

On the surface of it, lashing out on a NEW bike may seem frivolous but , apart from the eco-footprint of its production and shipping to Kingston, it is a reasonably Earth-friendly way to get around (albeit less gentle than walking).

So... I'm saving up and bracing myself...

Mike - I have heard that the bike is the most energy effective means of getting around - including walking.  Walking, say ten or fifteen miles, takes up quite a bit of energy which we get from the food we eat.  But a person on a bike uses a lot less fuel (food), and covers the same distance quicker and easier.   Any vehicle with a motor also uses fuel.   So go ahead, buy a new bike with a clear conscientious and ride it until it wears out.  

 Hi Seeler..

...would you like my old one?

It's okay... I understand...

One small step I can make is to consider my mode of transportation more carefully. This evening I went out with friends. We could easily have taken the bus, but I didn't even think to consider it. I did, however, carpool with one of them who lives close to me. I often offer rides to people, especially if we are going in the same general direction. I occasionally take the bus places, but usually find it more convenient to drive. I should consider taking the bus more often.