Wonders to behold!

It is, as Winnie the Pooh might say, a blustery day here in the Tri-Cities. But blustery days keep the waterfowl on the river, and there are wonders present here! The swans are back, quite early. Yesterday Dave and I counted thirty-five of them. My most thoughtful husband, knowing I would be out of town for a week, and knowing we can't count on swans to stay very long, insisted that I get in the car, and we go to Casey's Pond, which held not only that flock of swans, but also canvasbacks, widgeon, buffleheads, and assorted ducks too far away to identify.

Then, this morning, while scanning the river to see who was present (Canadian geese, assorted ducks, coot, the usual flock of pelicans) I came across an unusual sight. Thirteen blue herons, all gathered together! I see them in groupings while in rookeries (my favorite one is a bridge over the Snake River) but I've never seen so many in one place, simply standing in the shallows, probably staying out of the wind. And thirteen - what an appropriate number.

I know - not many people share my fascination for what happens outside my window. Not everyone is entranced by the migrating flocks, as I am. I am, it might be said, a bit of an "odd duck" myself, for loving such things. Yet in them I find a connection to God, a thankfulness, a delight in the presence of creation that settles me, and gives my soul refreshment. I invite you to look out your window, be it from a highrise, from a country cottage, or within a suburb. Just watch, for ten, twenty, thirty minutes. Let me know what comes into view. We'll share in those wonders together...

Leaving home

This weekend was spent at a church camp, on retreat, with about 25 people from the church I pastor. We worked, we played, we worshiped, we goofed off. Some people got extra hikes and extra time to sleep...some came home needing to rest up. All of us had to leave home to spend time together. It was a choice we made. Our ages ranged from six to seventy-something, with some representation of all decades in between. Our interests and backgrounds varied as widely as our ages. And still, we all chose to leave home, to spend time with one another.

Granted, this wasn't your usual retreat. The understanding from the outset was that it was "all activities optional". In other words, we came to do some work, but you don't have to do it if you don't want to. Feel free to do something else. So the youngest played games, spent time in the craft cabin, and went fishing. The eldest got those extra naps. (Well, some of them, anyway.) The twenty-somethings went on a hike with the fifty-somethings. And we all worshiped together, in really different ways. We read Psalm 19, then went outside with bags to collect things to make a collage with. We read John 21, then played with the right side of our brains by using crayons, colored pencils, clay, and paper. We read Genesis 1, then rejoiced in the creativity we've been given by God. We didn't have to leave home to do all this - but it was easier to do in a new setting.

Some of the biggest changes in my life have been initiated by leaving home. Going to college, of course. But even more so, leaving my home state and travelling across the country with my new husband. Leaving homes in Maryland, then Kansas, then Kentucky as we followed my military career around the U.S. Finally, leaving my Army home and returning to my home town to farm and to work as a nurse, and raise a family. Most recently, leaving even that home, the one we'd built from the ground up, the one with views of Mt.Rainier and Mt. Adams, and going to Pasco to serve a church.

My biggest transitions have all happened when I left home. And in each of them, God has found space to work in me in new ways. Perhaps that's why the small leavings - the retreats, the vacations, the short-term work away from home - also seem to have such potential for awakening me to God's presence in my life. Is this the same for you? When you leave home, do you also encounter God in new ways? Let me know your thoughts on this...let's share about the gifts of both newness and stability.

A few moments away...

I live across the road from a wildlife refuge. This time of year, the ducks and geese are migrating, the sandhill cranes fly far overhead, the cormorants leave for warmer climes, and the swans come through on their way south.

Over the past two weeks I've taken some intentional time to notice who all is out there. A hiking trip yielded a kingfisher, two canvasbacks, and the beginning of what will be huge, overwintering flocks of widgeon. A boat trip, poking into sloughs, discovered a loon, a red-necked grebe, a pied-billed grebe, and a pair of western grebes - along with the usual assortment of ducks and geese. No eagles yet - but I know they're coming. Lots of pelicans - huge, with white plumage streaked with black. And the occasional egret - I haven't gotten out the glasses and books to figure out which one.

Last week a friend and I took a nineteen mile hike along the rivers in this area - the Columbia, Snake, and Yakima. She commented on how rarely we see egrets in pairs. About ten minutes later - there was a pair, roosting in the top of a snag, near the grounds of a stately old mansion.

I live in the midst of rivers and wildlife, of desert beauty and open spaces. To see it all, I only have to walk out the door of my house, or walk a few short blocks to the river from the church. To see it all, I only have to open my eyes to everything surrounding me. It's there, whether I choose to notice it or not.

So is God. I just don't always take the time to notice God's presence. Yet God is present, whether I choose to notice or not. And not even a few moments away, but as close as my next breath. God is there. Grant me grace to open my eyes - to spend the moments in awareness - to be present to all that surrounds me. Especially to God...

Donuts and desolation

Last night I received a difficult phone call...followed by a difficult e-mail...followed by the blessing of a good night's sleep. When I awoke this morning, both situations were commended yet again to prayer. Brief prayer, I confess. Still, lifted to God. Then, while reading and praying my devotions, a beautiful vision of sunlight over Wallula Gap, heightening every ridge and valley and rock outcropping. And still...desolation. An overwhelming sadness in my soul, in the midst of thankfulness for the beauty.

Today I arrived at church to find four crews working on the new building. The ones hanging drywall, the ones doing masonry, the ones doing siding, and the ones tearing up the road and preparing for sidewalk, drainage, and whatever all! I toured, I showed it to a parishioner, I viewed, I was happy with what I saw. And still...desolation. I went to get donuts for everyone working. So many maple bars, so many cream filled, so many sugared or glazed. I love donuts. I rarely eat them any longer - but I love them. I told all the crews they were there, left them on the chancel, and was glad for the smiles and "thanks!" I got. And still...desolation.

I wonder if the desolation, the sadness, the ache that will not go away simply because I will it away, is God's reminder to me of those who cannot so easily attempt to escape those things that overwhelm, that threaten, that cause disruption and disturbance. Perhaps the desolation is a reminder that others are in that space, too, and of my call to pray for them. The list of those I know who are there is long - very long.

So I bring them before God, one at a time, asking for both God's presence with them and God's presence with me, that I learn to minister and serve as I am called. I am still desolate - but I am also thankful. I know these people because of my call, and they enrich my life in ways I had never anticipated, never expected.

For now...desolate...and thankful.