With All Its Sham and Drudgery...

I was bustling around the yard in that way I do; A list of goals embedded in my mind. As I trotted across the back yard toward the garden shed to gather more bricks, I remembered the message from the visiting minister at church today.

The visitor, a United Methodist Minister on sabbatical for a year to work on climate change action across members of various faiths, talked about the need to care for the Earth, but also the need to find joy and peace in it. Not only to fret about what needs to change, but to renew in the beauty that surrounds us.

As I bustled along, I walked past the hammock swing hanging from the large tree in our yard.

It was not on fire, but I lay down on it. And, oh, friends, it was good.

At first I felt the fear of leaving work undone while I lazed.

Then I felt the nausea of a zooming swing.

Then I felt the fear of staring at the big branch from which the swing hangs and thinking about if it fell.

Then I reassured myself that the arborist examined the tree not too many years ago, and the tree stands straight and strong, ready to hold me and my kin.

Then I relaxed…

And as I relaxed, I looked past the big branch, up into the branches of the tree.

This tree is the late bloomer in our yard. It has budded, but from a distance, it looks sparse and old. The other trees are in full leaf. This one seems to be waiting.

Then, I realized, this tree isn’t sparse. This tree is a nursery.

I was seeing baby leaves. Tiny, tiny, baby leaves. I don’t remember ever noticing or really seeing baby leaves before. Then I noticed the toddler leaves, and the adolescents, the whole childhood of leafdom, spread out above my head.

And then I wept, for Nutmeg who won’t see this new spring, and for the many springs I never noticed the baby leaves, and for our Earth that needs us so badly and yet still holds us so lovingly.

With all its sham and drudgery, it is still such a beautiful world.