A Tree of Life-- healing reflections from a pine tree

1st view of tree--wound area #1

2nd wound area

tall, straight, majestic

tall, straight, majestic

me and the tree

solomon seal

solomon seal

Today we had an activity in our Spiritual Direction class here at Columbia Theological seminary where we were to go outside on a nature walk, spending time in nature to see what might shimmer for/to us as we asked our discernment question.  As something caught our gaze, we were invited to bring our question to it and be available to the response.

When I came, my original question centered around healing-- 'how to heal?'. As I have reflected and listening, it still centers on healing. Yet, today, the question became 'how can I invite God into the pain?'

When I got outside, immediately I noticed magnolia tree leaves caught my attention and I headed toward the tree. It was a small tree without good climbing branches. It was still a pretty tree. As I looked around the pine straw filled floor and tree filled area, a tall pine tree caught my attention. My eyes followed the tall tree high into the air. This tree was the tallest one in the bunch.  Ah, that magnolia tree was just to get me in here. Nice!

As I looked at this pine tree, I noticed that it had an injury, a scar, starting about 6' off the ground and going up to about 12'. That's it. Nothing below and nothing above. I was intrigued, mesmerized. It shimmered and caught my gaze. This tree was tall, straight, majestic. Yet it carried a wound from something from some point in time. It's growth had not stopped, but had continued.

I sat down on the ground where I could look up at it and study it more. The wind was beginning to blow a bit more and it looked like rain was coming in sooner than expected. Tiny drops began to fall, but the tree canopy covered me for the moment. I asked my question: "God, how can I invite you into the pain?" Then I wrote in my journal: "Creator God, I invite you into the pain. This tree-- it's the tallest one around. As the sap flows from a pine tree, I invite your healing balm to flow through me."  As I sat there, one of those "wormy" pollen things fell on my journal. For me that was a recognition of new life. New beginnings. 

I decided to get up from my seated position and walk around the tree. As I began to walk to my left, I noticed another scar, wound. It started higher than the first one, about mid-way up from it, but it stopped at about the same place. This one had a deeper and wider wound at the top.

 I began to wonder about the scars and the wounds on the tree: 

• What caused these deep wounds?
• How did it heal?
• How did it survive?

As I asked these questions, I realized that I didn't have answers for this particular tree. Yet, my curiosity led me to contact an arborist friend and send some photos. I also began to reflect on how my questions about the tree could also be applied to me. Oh. Hmmmm.  Much like the magnolia tree was a way for me to see the pine tree, the pine tree was a way for me to see me.  Oh, Creator God, you have a way with your creation.

In the moment, I knew that this pine tree represented for me a tree of life, my tree of life. I might not have all the answers yet, but I am on the journey.

The discernment process is a journey. My question may continue to change along the way. It's not about the destination, but the journey, so I'm good with that.

And healing? It has been my goal for a long time to be a wounded healer (as Henri Nouwen uses the term) rather than a wounded wounder, so all healing is welcome on the journey.

To observe the pine tree today and to see that it survived a difficult time in its life, that it kept on growing... that gave me hope and encouragement. Its scars and wounds are visible, yes. So are scars and wounds I have on my knee, my hip, my side, my feet. It is true that inner scars and wounds aren't visible. Yet, there are times and places where those, too, can become visible for the good of the kin-dom and the glory of the Creator.

I wanted to explore the topic of trees and wounds a little further.

I read a book about trees a while back, but it is at home-- Peter Wohlleben's The Hidden Life of Trees. Here is a podcast with him on the Joe Gardener show.

I looked up some information on tree wounds and found this resource: Tree Care Kit.  One thing that struck me from this site is that trees don't heal, but rather they seal.  They compartmentalize and/or create barrier zones and new tree life is able to occur with healthy tissue. Wow! Interesting.

I don't know what question(s) you might be carrying within you these days. I invite you to take a walk into nature with your question and see what catches your attention. What animate or inanimate thing draws your gaze? Spend time in thoughtful reflection. See what bubbles to the surface.

You never know what adventure you might encounter.

As I was leaving the pine tree, I encountered one lone Solomon Seal poking up from the pine straw. I haven't seen any Solomon Seal yet this season so that was a great find.

Not only did I encounter my tree of life today, but I also encountered some wisdom. [Solomon. Solomon Seal.]  And having read that trees seal rather than heal, maybe there is a message in that from nature too. Hmmmm.

May time in nature open my eyes, my ears, all my senses to the Creator and all of creation in such a way that transforms my being and my doing to align more closely with the heart of God.

Rev. Deb

P.S. My journals are nature-themed:  "Advice from Nature"

The journal that I'm currently using is a "Sun" journal.  The "Tree" one is my 3rd one. I started with "River", then "Mountain", then "Tree", now "Sun".  

Reflections from a "blowy" flower

This morning I read a quote in a book for our spiritual direction program. I put some thoughts with the quote and added a photo for an Instagram/Facebook post.

I decided I would post on my blog this evening.

Here is what I wrote: 

I find that I am am able to notice God, Creator, most and best in nature. I notice in other places too, such as a recent experience in a grocery store. Paying attention to the movements of the Holy Spirit is a practice so that I might draw nearer to the heart of God. This is my goal in the spiritual journey-- to draw nearer to the heart of God. The quote I share from the book here seemed to fit with this picture of what I call a "blowy" flower. It is a dandelion. When in this stage, the blown seeds will travel as the wind carries them and they plant themselves to renew.

"Our God is the one whom Jesus called Father, whom the Scriptures address as Creator and Lord of all that is; and whose Spirit, flowing from Father and Son, animates our lives and renews the face of the earth." ~Elizabeth Liebert, The Way of Discernment: Spiritual Practices for Decision Making, xv.

Photo is mine. Chester Frost Park. 4/23/22

Additional thought this evening:

Dandelions in this form capture my attention and spirit not only because they are beautiful with their design, but because they are playful and fun. In the light of the sunset two nights ago, this weed shone brightly on the shore. It was as if it was basking in the light of the sun, taking in the light that was being offered it and glowing in return.

This journey is truly an adventure.

May it continue to be so.

Rev. Deb

Psalm 111-- giving thanks for new life

stained glass windows in the chapel of Harrington Center

a tiny "heart" in the concrete on the patio of Harrington Center

I was texting a friend yesterday and was offering a resource on the Psalms that has become dear to me: Psalms for Praying by Nan Merrill.

I wanted to give this person an example of how these readings of the Psalms creates a renewed space for me.

Randomly, I opened the book and Psalm 111 stood out to me.  I had underlined these words: "Your steadfast Love is food for the soul, nourishment in times of fear."  Ah, God's love, God's steadfast love is food for the soul. Yes.

I took pictures of the book and sent them, encouraging my friend to "chew on it", to read it slowly a couple times through and think through these questions: What grabs you? What stays with you? How does it speak to you? What is it calling you toward?  I think suggested that my friend rest in these thoughts and then read it another time through slowly. Afterwards, conclude by giving thanks to God for the time spent together. (Or anything else that came up.)

The reading, the questions and the resting are a way way to practice 'sacred reading' or lectio divina. 

Sometimes I get caught up in the logistics of a practice that I fail to gain the intent of the practice, which is always to draw me closer, nearer to the heart of God. Somehow, explaining lectio divina in the way that I did for my friend above was a simpler way for me and it cut out the steps I have read and practiced before and seemed more organic to me.

I looked up Psalm 111 on line: 

Praise the Beloved, O my soul!
I will give thanks to You with
		my whole heart,
	to all who will listen, I will
		tell of your goodness.
Wondrous is Creation, Great Builder;
	I take pleasure in pondering
		your Work.
Full of honor and integrity are
		your teachings;
	those who follow them will
		find new life.
You lift the hearts of those who
		suffer;
	You come to them in their need.
Your steadfast Love is food for
		the soul,
	nourishment in times of fear.
You are ever-mindful of your
		covenant,
	a very Presence to the weary
		and afflicted.
Your Voice is truth to those with
		ears to hear,
	your precepts are sure;
Written on the hearts of your
		people, they are
	to be lived forever with
	faith-filled love and assurance.
You bring new life to the world;
Yes! life in abundance is your
		gift to us.
	Holy and glorious is your Name!
Reverence for You, O Holy One, is the
		beginning of wisdom;
	a good understanding have all
		who practice it.
	Your Spirit endures for ever!

------------------------------------------------------------------

I invite you to read through the Psalm several times slowly.

Chew on it.

What grabs you? What stays with you? How does it speak to you? What is it calling you toward?

Read it again through one more time slowly.

Offer up a prayer of thanksgiving for whatever things you got out of it and for your time with God, Creator, the Great Spirit, etc. (whatever name you use).

As I take my time this evening, spending time with this Psalm, here is what stands out to me:

• new life
• lift the hearts of those who suffer
• your steadfast Love is food for the soul
• new life (hmmm... what does that say that it stood out to me 2x?)
• life in abundance
• a very Presence to the weary

As I read through this Psalm, it is a breath of fresh air and renewal for me, it is life-giving. I give thanks to the Creator, the One who knows me best and for these words of new life and life in abundance.

If you'd like to share your reflections from the Psalm in the comments, I invite you to do so.

Continuing on this adventurous journey, 

Rev. Deb

Photos are mine. Columbia Theological Seminary. 

Guest post by Michael Tate--The Lenten Lighthouse

Phare de la Jument, France

In my effort to bring guest writers to this blog space, I am happy to introduce a second writer this Lenten season: Michael Tate. You can find his writing on his Facebook page. 

I invite you to read this piece that he posted today, allowing it to be a Lenten reflection. 

What do you glean from these words?

Me? I glean hope.

Rev. Deb

-----------------------------------------------------------

The Lenten Lighthouse

I have stood for more than a century.  Shining my light of both warning and safety for generations of mariners.  Even as many of my brothers and sisters fell into disrepair and deterioration I stood fast.  For those of us who remained, I was one of the lucky few who warranted automation because of the treachery of the rocks below.  Even with all of their modernization, those mariners needed my help.

And yet I stand a forgotten sentinel.  Too  far for visitors and too electronic for a keeper.  I remain vigilant in deafening silence.  My light silently screams of the danger still.   Yet I feel I have become that which has been given up.  Would they even know if I just stopped?  Would they know if I gave into the waves?  

Perhaps that is what I shall give up.  I may not have eyes with which to see a calendar but I mark the seasons and the passing of the phases of the moon.  My memory is long and I remember the joy of my keepers.  I heard the words of lent and sacrifice and return.  I embody the first two but no one returns for me.  So perhaps I shall give them up, all those who have forgotten me.

Then a twinkle strikes my glass.  A bright star, freckled upon the ebony sky, winks at me.  From its impossible distance it sees me standing here alone.  It reminds me of the other words I have heard.  The sacrificed stood alone.  Betrayed and abandoned.   Hurt and broken and bleeding.  Lifted up above a sea of people becoming at once a beacon of hope in a rocky cursed world.  

This lamb made no noise the words go.  He did not protest His fate nor did He give those up, even those who had forgotten him.  These words echo through the spirals of my stairs and strengthens my foundation.   

Then I hear another sound in my memory.   The laughter of the keeper's children bounce lovingly off my walls.   The innocent smiles and caring hands that once filled my days all combine with the story of the One who died and yet lived just as the horizon darkens.

I choose to give up fear and doubt and self loathing.  Not just for weeks and days but for all of my time whatever that shall be.  My light shines brighter as I choose to shine as a beacon of truth and home.  I am the symbol of the word salvation as I illuminate a path through the dark to the safe harbor.  

The lenten lighthouse stands shining its solitary light for whosoever will see it and seek its safe harbor.  Don't give up shining your light even if you feel as if you're the only one.   Some lost ship being tossed by storms can only see one light and it is yours.  Without you, they may not find their way to safety.

~Michael Tate 

(Photo posted on his FB page, French lighthouse)

Guest post by Thorny Gates-- Feather on Sandy Beach

I have wanted to offer guest blogposts for a while. I just haven't gotten a "round tuit." Recently I saw a painting that caught my attention and I asked the artist if he might write his thoughts down about it and offer it on my blog. He did. 

Friends, I introduce Thorny Gates to you. Thorny often posts photography or his paintings on his Facebook page, along with reflections. His work inspires me.

I invite you to spend some time with the art and the artist's words.

Rev. Deb

Feather on Sandy Beach

 

Sunrise and sunsets are reflective times for the soul.

Water is life. It ebbs and flows. It can be a gentle rain or a raging storm. Waves come in for a deeper connection or to let go. Water is the Life Force flowing through all things.  Waves bring cleansing, new beginnings, life.  Receding they take away pain, worries, and life. Water gives moments to breathe and times of peace. Without water life doesn’t exist.

Feathers are a symbol of The Creator and of the connection to the person with the feather and to the bird that gifted it.  Feathers are signs of freedom, gliding on the breath of life, of care, protection, strength and honor.

The feather is standing firmly anchored to Mother Earth. When the winds of life blow, the Great Spirit may lean and bend but doesn’t break. It withstands the storms. 

The painting is a reminder that all life is connected and to take time to see and remember.

~Thorny Gates

Thoughts on not giving up

Here it is January 19th and we are mid-way through January 2022. Hopes for a declining or ending pandemic are dashed as the infection spreads rapidly. Just today in my corner of the world, I saw a post from news channel 9 that showed a photo with a mask from the local bus system in our county. The article mentions that the Task Force is being reactivated. I don't mind masks. I am glad to wear a mask to protect other people. As a follower of Christ, I am taught that living, loving, and leading IS about the other-- we are to love God and love neighbor. I understand that there are folks who disagree. There are followers of Christ who disagree. And that's okay. Those who lived and ate with Christ didn't always agree on things. There is nothing taught by the Holy Spirit or the written Word (to my knowledge) that says that all followers of Christ must agree. 

I am weary. I am weary from the ongoing need to pay attention to statistics. I am weary of reading about people dying-- young and old. I am weary of attempting to hold the tension of the both/and, of the different sides, of riding the middle. I am weary of not being able to move forward with the next. It's not about going back to 'what was' as that cannot be. Much like air travel has not gone back to pre-9/11 days, there are many things that will not "go back" to pre-pandemic days. I'm good with that.

Prior to pandemic days, it was easier to live into liminal space, to paradox, to both/and, etc. 

I have had my times of not knowing and Thomas Merton's prayer is an ongoing gift that speaks to me.

My Lord God,

I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

nor do I really know myself,

and the fact that I think I am following your will

does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you

does in fact please you.

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,

though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always though

I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me,

and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Yet, there is only so much liminal space that I can absorb.  The not knowing can become too much. 

I am beginning to hear the Psalmist cry out 'how long, how long?' and cry out with him.

Yet, today, on my walk around the community I saw a sign that read "Don't Give Up". I thought to myself, "Don't Give Up". 

I crossed the street to get a photo and when I did, there was a sign that had the words on the opposite side, but they were more faded. That made me chuckle a bit. Here were the same words, the same message, only more faded and worn out. Could it be that even when we are worn out, we can still receive the message of "don't give up"? Definitely something to chew on.

Whether we are reading the worn out sign or the not so worn out sign, here are some things we can NOT give up:

• Don't give up doing good.
• Don't give up looking at God, loving God, and loving others (as we love ourselves).

As I reflected on the message of the signs, I sat down for some afternoon reading and tea.

I picked up where I had left off in Discernment: a path to spiritual awakening by Rose Mary Dougherty and read this: "Julian's [Julian of Norwich] way of praying for others may be our most effective means of praying for self-knowledge. Perhaps for a time we give up looking at ourselves and keep our eyes focused on God. To look at God is to look at all of creation, seeing the shared God-life of all." (37)

Ah, there IS something we CAN give up--looking at ourselves and our situation. What we DON'T give up on is our focus on God. Isn't that what loving God and neighbor is about-- we focus on God and neighbor, not self or situation.

Dougherty continues, "As we do this, as we see the bigger picture, we also see ourselves in relation to it." (38)

Going back to the Psalmist David who cried out 'how long, how long' in Psalm 13-- David eventually got his focus off himself and back onto God. He gave up looking at himself and his situation and refocused on God.

From readings, from prayers, from reminders from signs and Scriptures, from hot tea and walks.. living into daily practices that help me refocus on God are the things that refuel and re-energize me.

May you find ways to regain your focus on God when you find yourself becoming weary or worn down. Don't give up on "seeing the shared God-life of all".

Rev. Deb

2021--A Year in Review

Many of us take time at the end of each year to look back, reflect, think over the good, the bad, the ugly. Today is December 28th and it's that time of the year.

Let's see. 2021. Somehow 2020 runs into 2021, but I will do my best to focus solely on 2021.

Clergy Convocation was online in February. The focus was on Sabbath rest.

My first residency for the Spiritual Direction program was online in April. They did a superb job of connecting us in worship, in sending us to our different groups, and bringing us back together for our sessions. 

I continued preaching solely online until Pentecost Sunday, May 23rd, on which we began our both/and services on in person and online worship.

Lots of hiking, bicycling, and walking allowed for outdoor time throughout the year.

Highlights of the year: 

*getting to know some of the community folks in St. Elmo through the "Sparkle St. Elmo" clean up day

*putting together a "Stations of the Cross" for St. Elmo UMC and community, using St. Elmo Ave. and the Virginia Greenway as the path

*an anniversary get-away in March

*my brother got married in April

*representing for PFLAG Athens in June at MooFest

*glamping in our friends' backyard in August

*getting to go to Chautauqua Institution over the summer to be chaplain at the Methodist House for a week. 

*preaching a series on faith and mental health, loosely based on my friend Steve's book, Hiding in the Pews. I say "loosely" because I picked four themes and Scriptures to go with them, and chose some quotes from the chapters to go along. 

*attending a 5 Day Academy in NC in October

*Trunk or Treat and goin all out with the Sponge Bob theme for my car

*attending an in-person residency for the Spiritual Direction program for the first time on the Columbia Theological Seminary campus in November

*offering an Advent study and preaching series from God Broke Through at Christmas

*participating in the St. Elmo Luminaria and Stroll by providing caroling and hot chocolate at St. Elmo UMC

*offering a 'come and go' Longest Night Service for people who wanted/needed time and space for quiet, reflection, and prayer

*Christmas Eve Candlelight Service

*spending lots of quality time with our "kids" when they were in town, cooking dinner together, eating outdoors at restaurants

*being able to see my parents at my home and at theirs

My writing this past year hasn't been as constant as I would like for it to have been. I haven't written any Haikus recently.  I need time, energy, and space to write. Most of my writing tends to be encouraging thoughts / posts on my Instagram/Facebook pages that are written during my morning quiet times.

My CEUs (continuing education units) have focused on how to do ministry during an ongoing pandemic, discipleship, enhancing ZOOM skills, Sabbath, doing creative ministry, etc.

There has been much loss in 2021. Loss of life primarily. I have walked with many as they said goodbye to their loved ones. Though that isn't an easy journey, it is a big part of my calling and one that is sacred. 

Walking with others, no matter their path, is a part of my calling that is life giving. Listening to others share their journey, asking questions, sharing my journey, allowing the Divine to meet us where we are-- all of it is sacred.

There is probably more that I'm not remembering about 2021. I'm doing this from my memories and that doesn't always cover everything.

Of course there is Cliff (our dog). And Charlie being home for both the summer and now Christmas vacation. Charlie home for the summer was a big part of our family cooking sessions and gatherings. 

As 2021 comes to a close and 2022 will begin sooner than later, I wonder what adventures are ahead. 

Whatever the adventures may be on the journey, I'm looking forward to sharing life with others and to making the best of whatever comes.

Peace to all as the new year comes, 

Rev. Deb

Some photos from 2021: