Trust in the Slow Work...

Welcome to my blog and to the meanderings of a small group of writers interested in spiritual journeys. We post once a month and the host gathers our writings and shares links. This month we are hosted by Patricia Franz, who offered a prayer poem by by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J., as our prompt. The poem is entitled Patient Trust. 

Here is the first line:

Above all, trust in the slow work of God. 

I'm in the middle of a home refurbishment project. Not the best time to write about slow work. We've moved most everything out of our first floor, so today I can't find my garden gloves, the brackets for my curtain pole, my bag of teaching supplies, etc.  I thought I was on top of it at first, but that passed. Now I'm bewildered, and the end is not in sight.

Trust in the slow work of God!  It sounds so simple.

Still, I made this mess by way of my own plans. I think that's a distinction to remember.  

So I'm backing up a bit. Let me show you some recent blessings.

Back in February I came upon an availability of a cabin on a lake we love. A quiet week next to the lake was my dream. The cabin was available in the crush of tourist season. I had misgivings about loud motorboats, heat, throngs of people, the cabin I had only seen online, etc. In the end I booked the week. This is what we found:

A commodious cabin with wonderful screened porch...

 right on the lake! Clear and quiet. 

Welcoming beauty.

A red canoe.

Waterfall.

A beautiful inlet.

Brilliant color.

Mystery.

Calm.

 We watched the lake in all its moods. Loons serenaded. Mergansers and ospreys visited. We saw painted turtles, a heron and cedar waxwings in the inlet. (The heron let us know we interrupted dinner.) Across the lake a family of loons put on a synchronized show, the young one not yet ready to dive. 

It was a glorious week, full of beauty, serenity, and fresh air. There were a few motorboats, but not too many. The air turned cool. The cabin worked beautifully. We canoed, hiked, visited a historic fort and listened to a lakeside concert. We filled our reserves for the work ahead. 

Praise God from whom all blessings flow...

I'm deeply grateful for this time of relaxation and renewal. I'm reminding myself of the serenity of the lake as I try to be patient with the slow work in my house. May it end happily.

Many thanks to Pat Franz for hosting today, and for providing our prompt. You can find Pat and links to others in the group by clicking HERE.

Still Waters

 

Welcome to the July 2025 edition of Spiritual Journey Thursday. We are a small group of poets writing each month about the inner life. This month I'm hosting, and I offered the prompt of Still Waters. 

My husband and I bought a canoe and took a number of trips into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA) in Minnesota when we were first married. We loved it. The BWCA is a protected area, open to those in canoes and kayaks. Except for a few entry lakes, motors are forbidden. 

Paddling is a quiet enterprise, just the dipping of paddles and swish of water. You hear all the chirping and thrumming of nature. We learned to keep our eyes and ears open and were often rewarded. Early one morning a moose passed within feet of our tent just after clompping out of the lake. Even though our Duluth pack of food was hoisted high over a limb, the moose had to lower its huge rack to get under it. Moose are ENORMOUS! We've seen beaver pulling young branches across a lake, no doubt busy at home improvement, and we were thrilled to see otters glide sleekly through the water. 

We watched kingfishers flit from tree to tree, and saw them dive and come up with breakfast in their beaks. We startled great blue herons, their huge wings flapping to a roost in the trees. We heard the pileated woodpecker knocking on an old pine and noticed its resemblance to the ancient pterodactyl.

While exploring a quiet bay we suddenly came upon a loon on a nest, its head hung down near the water. Loons will play dead as a defensive behavior if they feel threatened, and we had come upon it unaware, just a few feet away. We didn't want to scare it from the nest so we went quietly by. I still wonder if those eggs hatched successfully. In the BWCA you can hear loons day and night. Some evenings their parties are loud and raucous with calls echoing from lake to lake. There's nothing like the ancient and eerie calls of loons. They signal that all is well in the north woods.

We had all these wonderful adventures in and around water. What a blessing we have in water. The cooling splash on a warm day. The gentle bobbing. The sunset reflected on the shiny surface. I can think of nothing more beautiful and life-giving than water.

We loved the waters of Minnesota, though they were not always still. We had waves that bounced us and a few white caps to teach us respect. We had roiling gray waters, and water dimpled with rain. We scraped our canoe on any number of rocks. Mainly, though, we were lucky. Blessed. We were amateurs, learning along the way. By the grace of God, we never flipped into the water.  

I am deeply thankful for our adventures in still waters. We two in the canoe are some of my most treasured memories.

This summer we decided to put our old aluminum canoe up for sale. It's in great shape and will last another 50 years. I'm a little sad, but we have other adventures ahead of us. Whoever gets our canoe will make their own adventures, and I will wish them still waters and happy paddling.

"He leads me beside still waters."  

Yes!

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