Clymer Reunion

Every other year, my mother's family reunites -- siblings from California, Idaho, Colorado, Texas, Virginia, and Pennsylvania meet in southern PA for a weekend of festivities. I'm so fortunate to be a part of such a supportive family!

With my limited film, here are some highlights in pictures:

Marisa with cousin-kids Isaac and Grace

Slime-Ball ... and the more relaxed cousin crew enjoying the sun together

Our lovely grandparents (and parents), James and Mary

For more pictures, visit uncle Jim's photograhpy site.

Questioning Days

At the end of June, I lead my last canoe trip in Minnesota for the summer. My fearless co-leader Kate and I led a three-generational family, consisting of grandparents, 3 children (plus one spouse), and 5 squirrelly kids ages 8 to 11.


Fearless co-leaders Kate and Me

JOSH (not Joel!!), Caleb, Christine, Johnna, Micah, and loon with piggyback baby


At first Kate and I were a little anxious at leading such a large group - of so many young kids, besides! But we were instantly charmed by the kind and considerate adults and the amazingly extroverted and constantly inquisitive children. Within hours of joyfully untangling themselves from the confines of their minivan, the kids had explored every path and trail at Pine Ridge (base camp) and more... they had the place mapped out better than I have after three years living there!

(showing off end-of-trip muscles)

The week turned out to be a rigorous adventure which grandparents, parents and kids all handled with surprising energy, grace and humor. I was filled with a beautiful and bittersweet joy, so blessed to share the week with such a delightful family, yet unable to push from my mind the inevitable end of the trip and my time in the northwoods.


Things we were: Monkey in the Middle, River Fairies, Mosquito-proof Bandits


Things we saw: Full moon over darkening lake, Loon egg near our campsite, Beauty in details

After the storm Happiest sick person alive

One fish caught... the others are still trying...

On their anniversary!

One of the most impressive things about this group, particularly the children, was their phenomenal ability to ask questions. For the first few hours I knew them, I actually wondered if the kids ever made statements; they seemed communicate completely through question. Amazingly, the answer to one question would undoubtedly spur the next! I loved it.

When we returned from our trip, I spent some time at the Front Porch Coffee Shop in town where this poem found its way to me. The kids of my final trip of the summer - Christine, Caleb, Micah, Joel, and Johnna - helped me see that questions are a natural and very real part of life. In this way, they have helped prepare me for the multitude of questions that I face in the awkward time of transition. Rather than be hindered or paralyzed by the unknown, I can embrace my many questions and learn. Anyway, who wants to be fearful when you can be curious? So, the poem.

Sometimes, the world isn't clear:
the whys and the whats and the sad lonely
missing of a place I've not even left
seem too much to bear.

But as the heron, rising
slowly from the mist,
I will fly on.

Mystery will birth story,
and with wings sprouted here,
I will rise with grace
into the questioning day."

Aurthur Morris/BIRDS AS ART

Thanks, kids!

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.