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.

Images of Patience

I've chosen to reflect on my 2020 One Little Word for this post. My word was PATIENCE. And what a year for practicing patience!  I definitely have needed to practice patience this year.  

I'll begin with a confession: I don't know if I've gained much ground. Patience is a big order, and I expect I'll be working on it to my dying day. I may have exercised new kinds of patience this year, but often I have come to a patient stance the hard way, after much flailing about, finally realizing that I am powerless over many things. The world is not in my hands. I need to take a long view, to "let go and let God."  

Recently I received a Frederick Buechner quote about trees, and although it did not mention patience per se, it seemed pertinent because it offered me an image.  Especially this part:

Photo by my brother, Don Evenson

Sycamore, willow, catalpa, ash—who knows what their true names are? We know only that they are most beautiful in the fall when they are dying. They are craziest when the wind is blowing. In the snow they are holiest.

Image by enriquelopezgarre from Pixabay

 

Maybe what is most precious about them is their silence. Maybe what is most touching about them is the way they reach out to us as we pass. -Frederick Buechner...Originally published in Beyond Words  

Photo by me!

Buechner's words led me to think of trees as images of patience.  There they stand, season after season, year after year... silent and steadfast. Sometimes even hollow trees manage to stand upright and put out leaves in the spring. They reach out to us, shake their limbs at us. They patiently witness our world as they provide shade, fruit, and shelter. 

Photo by my brother, Don Evenson

Romans 12:12 tells us: Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. 

In their own ways, I imagine trees rejoicing in due season, hopeful in their growing and flowering, reaching out... patient in drought or as they lose their leaves and endure the winter months... constant as they cling to the earth and reach toward the heavens. 

Some Native American tribes have a myth about cottonwood trees. If you cut a limb of a cottonwood tree, you will see a star in the cross section, much as you see a star at the middle of an apple's cross-section. Some tribes believe that when a big wind comes along, these stars shake loose from the tree and go up to shine in the heavens. I love this beautiful idea! And sometimes I feel that it is in our hours of tribulation, as we patiently endure the whirlwinds around us, that our stars may be released to shine also. 

Photo by my brother, Don Evenson

Advent has begun, a time of patience and preparation, and this carol is one we often sang:

JESUS CHRIST THE APPLE TREE

The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit, and always green:
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the apple tree.     See the entire lyrics here.  Listen here.

Photo by my brother, Don Evenson

I hope these images will be helpful, and maybe even inspire your stars to shine. Many blessings in the days to come.

Thanks to Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise for hosting this month. She and others will be posting today on spiritual journey topics. Find the links here.