Many gifts

Back in early May, when I first arrived in Minnesota for the summer, I arose just after dawn to have some quiet, early time to start soaking in my surroundings. (I always have enjoyed the freshness of the morning.) With my journal, a book of poems, and a cup of steaming coffee in hand, I settled down at the picnic table behind our house. The first glorious gift of the summer was a poem by Yorifumi Yaguchi that has stayed with me:

Silence

in a far
place
i do not even know
a
leaf
falling down
like a silence
on the mirror
of the lake
making few
wavelets
hardly seen

ah
that sound
disturbs
my silence
like the explosion
of a
temple bell

Those early moments of quiet (broken by bird chatter, footsteps, and the wind in the aspens and the smell of pines) became holy as I let myself notice the sacred that is present in green and growing things. The Spirit of God rings a beautiful bell that our ears can't help but hear when we take the time to quiet ourselves and listen!

The next gift of the morning happened only moments later when I heard the familiar two-note whistle of a chickadee, coming from a tree about six feet to my right. My heart felt like it had stopped, and as I held my breath I so so slowly turned my head to catch a glimpse of the singer.
To my surprise and delight, I didn't turn far before the chickadee boldly flew to join me at the picnic table. It took its perch directly across from me, just two feet from my nose! We stared at each other, wordless and breathless, cocking our heads to get a better look at the "other" - a friendly stranger. After that brief eternity, we shared something new.

With the help of a friend, I later researched some of the Native American wisdom surrounding the chickadee. What I found was fascinating: perceived as social, cheerful birds, they are also connected with truth - bringing joy to everyone's lives by sharing truth in a manner that heals.

So as I leave Wilderness Wind, I take with me the filling gift of the chickadee. Refreshed and revived, my soul eagerly looks on towards the approaching horizon of many transitions.

I thank, with deepest gratitude, my people friends at Wilderness Wind: Mary Ruth, Kathy, Dave, Peter, Ben, Robin, Aryn and Kate who have helped make the place a home of healing and generosity for another season. And for the rocks, trees, birds, flowers, and pines that are always praying, always breathing messages of love from God to us. May we, the human race, be as Douglas Wood describes in his children's book, be "messages of love from God to the earth, and a prayer from the earth back to God."

My cup overflows.