She Was Restless to Return to a Place She Had Never Been

So writes Pete Dunne about a first year peregrine's maiden migratory voyage, in his piece A Peregrine Going South. "She was restless to return to a place she had never been, but one she would know when she got there." That line has stayed with me since I first read it in 1995. I understood the longing to go, because I felt, and feel, it too. While in Pennsylvania, we lived directly beneath a waterfowl migration route and each spring and fall the skies were filled with Canada geese, snow geese and tundra swans, winging their way towards the, sometimes unknown, place that called to their wild hearts. "Take me with you!" my own heart cried, but, as I had had no wings with which to follow, I watched them soar out of sight, lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

I know that same lump of longing each and every time I read Edwin Teale's A Naturalist Buys an Old Farm, an almost irrational pull towards a life that isn't mine, at least as far as I can see. But suddenly, in a couple of days, I will be there...for a week. A week in which I may see not another soul, in which my company will be the field and woodland insects and birds, and the fish, turtles and frogs of their pond, and whatever mammals I see roaming the land. How I will truly feel on this land, I have yet to discover. Will I feel at home? Will I, as a friend asked, feel like an intruder? Will I have periods of fear, moments of elation? 

On Sunday, I will begin a solitary time without internet and superfluous interactions with the rest of the world. I will be blessedly beyond the reach of the media and the angst of the daily news, and beyond the angst of so many of my friends' reactions to the daily news. A passage from A Naturalist Buys an Old Farm comes to mind. Looking back on their first night in their new home, Edwin wrote, "Sitting there in the twilight, watching the fireflies and listening to the whippoorwill that first evening, we seemed to be in the perfect habitat for a pair of naturalists. We felt as comfortable as a rabbit in its form. Here, in every season of the year, we would be living on the edge of wildness. All these acres around us, all these fields and woods, fading into the night, would form a sanctuary farm a sanctuary for wildlife and a sanctuary for us."  

With much thankfulness to God for this wondrous opportunity, I will sit, in spirit, with the Teales, and smile and wholeheartedly agree.

Gratitude in the Ordinary

It is easy to give thanks on feast days, like the beautiful bright and sunny Thanksgiving holiday we had a couple of days ago. Today, however, it is cold and damp, rainy and dark and, in the same spirit, I am celebrating, in my ordinary daily life, that for which I am thankful. Such an exercise is not always my mindset, lest any be misled, but I am praying about and working towards developing a grateful spirit, no matter what the externals might be. I will not always manage it, I am well aware, but, at the moment, I am enjoying the ease in which so many daily blessings spring to mind. 

In no particular order, I am grateful for:

The bright red of winterberry and deep red of oak-leaf hydrangea on this colorless day in late November
The joy of oiling a more-than-a-century old chestnut table and butter bowl and more recently handmade wooden utensils
The intense, deep purple layers of a red onion, as shiny as any eggplant
A delicate, blue pottery cup my daughter once gave me, that makes me feel like a queen when I drink from it
Beavers working in the marsh, who seem to pay no heed to the day's humanly inhospitable conditions
A dawn chorus of birds that, while diminished in variety, still greets each day with enthusiasm
The few remaining herbs in my garden that spice up salads of mostly arugula and kale
Foraged greens for creating Christmas wreaths of cedar, pine and holly
The chattering of an eagle overhead and chittering of a nearby red-headed woodpecker
The two black, formerly-neutered feral, cats who have made our back porch their home
A dear husband who loves me as I am
Grown children and their children who continue to delight and encourage
The opportunity to help a neighbor in need this afternoon
A heart that still is able to love, despite the awareness of having hurt and been hurt by others
The abiding presence of the Spirit of the living God

May your own hearts be filled with gratitude, even in the midst of struggle, as you head into this blessed Advent season.

Mindfulness

I've been reading and thinking lately about living life mindfully and this evening I decided to look up the word and discern whether I was understanding its meaning correctly. The words "attentive" and "aware" were most often used as definitions, but usually there was the implied "to" or "of" attached. I didn't find the word used in the context of defining one's life, but maybe those "to's" and "of's" really are the key, after all.

Early this morning, as I have been doing lately, I took a walk down to the river.  The farm and river are quiet then and there is ample opportunity for observation and for thinking. It is a good time to be mindful of what is happening around me - of the tide, of the summer singing insects, and of the voices of which birds are or are not present. It is a time to be mindful of the bounty of late summer and to be thankful for the land that feeds all living things right now.

However, even as I thought I was being aware, I learned a new lesson about mindfulness.  Sitting on a favorite log and looking up river, I saw a few Forster's Terns gracefully whirling and plunging  into the water, as they fished.  From up river, the fog began to roll in and the landscape before me grew increasingly fuzzy. While I could still see in the distance, I thought to look through my binoculars and there, beyond what I could see with my naked eyes, were dozens of terns flying to and fro.

How does this pertain to mindfulness? If being mindful means paying attention to what is present, it also mean paying attention to that which is present, but not always visible. I am learning that living life mindfully means being aware of God's presence in any and every situation I find myself.  It means being attentive to His voice and the leading of His Spirit as I go about the seemingly mundane affairs of day to day life. I am very sure that I will have much more to learn as I try to live a less distracted and more intentional life, but I am thankful for the gift of these insights this morning, and for the terns.

All Good Gifts

I am the gardener for a large garden, created for the benefit of school students who come on class trips to the farm where I work and live. The farm is a patchwork of woodlands, wetlands and open fields and sits along the banks of the Potomac River. As a result, I am richly blessed with the daily sightings bald eagles, ospreys, red shouldered hawks and the many non-raptors who make this place their home. And I am filled with gratitude for the land's bounty as I labor in the garden beds, harvesting for my husband and myself, and for others, while at the same time planting to support the many pollinators who live in and bless the garden with their presence. 

In the days to come I will be writing about my journeying towards a mindful life, marked by love for God and for a simplicity that allows me to hear His voice.  For this opening post, however, I'll just set down this song from the old movie Godspell that has been circling through my mind as I worked and walked today.  The words seem a fitting beginning for a series of writings about a life of many earthy blessings.

All Good Gifts

We plow the fields and scatter the good seed on the land.

But it is fed and watered by God's almighty hand.

He sends us snow in winter, the warmth to swell the grain.

The breezes and the sunshine, and soft refreshing rains.

We thank Thee, then, O Father, for all things bright and good.

The seed time and the harvest, our life, our health, our food.

No gifts have we to offer for all Thy love imparts,

But that which Thou desirest, our humble, thankful hearts.

All good gifts around us,

Are sent from Heaven above.

Then, thank the Lord, thank the Lord,

For all His love.