Remembering Our Place #growrule

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This Lent, I have been using a tool called “Growing a Rule of Life.”  Each day there is a video and a prompt question to engage with.  And of course, I’m behind already.

 

Friday’s video reminded me that we need structure, we need planning, we need the framework in place before we start these kinds of disciplines, and the very fact that I didn’t schedule time for my days off and for Sunday (which is always a hectic day in my world) proves the point.

The question we were left with that day is simple: when you connect with nature, what is meaningful about it?

When I truly connect with nature, I find that I, myself, my ego, is diminished.  So much of my life is spent working and relating and living my life and everything revolves around myself and my calling and what I’m supposed to do or not do.

Yet when I truly connect with nature, all of that ceases.

I still my soul.

I stop.

And I am humbled by the reminder that there is so much else going on in the world that is not me.

The falling of snow flakes. The robins in the trees. The buds already forming. The hawk gliding overhead. The slow decomposition of the leaves that are life and death all wrapped into one.

And all of it continues without me.

In fact, all of this life probably would do a lot better without our human interference and selfish use and abuse of the world.

When I truly connect with nature, I am overcome with how small I am, and how beautiful the world is.

My soul cannot help but be awed by our Creator.

 

So much of the time, I’m rushing here and there, from meeting to project, to home and back.

Without creating space to stop and pause and connect with the world around us, I will forget who I am.  I will forget how insignificant these tasks are in the grand scheme of things.  I will forget that it is not about me… but my Creator.

What can thrive here? #growrule

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Last year I took four weeks of spiritual renewal leave and wanted to focus on cultivation… in relationships, in my spiritual life, and literally, in my back yard.

 

I had far more intentions than time, but I was able to manage to clear out one entire section of the retaining wall (seen behind the owl mug in the picture).  Vines and weeds and trees were growing in the midst of the mulch and rocks.  I wanted to start from scratch and add some order to the space.

 

The question put forth today in “Growing A Rule of Life” is simple: In your garden, what will thrive… what can thrive if you let it?

What I discovered last summer was a whole lot of things were thriving I didn’t really want anymore.

So the English ivy was pulled and I discovered day lilies  hiding under all the vines.

I cut back and cleared volunteer mulberries.

I destroyed a viney, busy mess of poison ivy, and cut out growth on a tree that had been cut down long before we arrived.

 

By clearing away the clutter in my garden, I created space for other things to thrive.  Like the  lilies and a lilac bush I discovered hiding in the mess of it all.

It was hidden in the very back corner, with volunteer trees suffocating it and so I moved it to a better spot and now it will have more sun. I’m anxious to see how it has weathered the winter and whether it will thrive in its new location or not.

I also am trying to figure out what to do with about 20 volunteer redbud trees in the space.  They are thriving, but will need pruning and support in order to grow into proper trees. And they simply cannot thrive so close to one another, so the majority will have to be pulled.  That is still a project for another day.

In the space I cleared, I also tried to plant wild ginger.  Yet, it seemed to yellow and fade as the summer went on.

Just because we want to cultivate certain things, doesn’t mean we can.

 

As I build a rule of life, these lessons are helpful.  There are all sorts of things I might want to plant, but I simply don’t have time or room for it all.  Focusing on a few things that can thrive and will help me thrive in my journey of discipleship is wonderfully freeing.

 

Some things I think can thrive:

  • Intentional Sabbath: setting firm boundaries between work and home/rest
  • Blogging as a spiritual discipline: a place for reflection upon the Word, our faith lived out in the world
  • Prayer time and space:  physically creating a space to spend time listening to God both at work and at home.

Look. See. Live. #growrule

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As part of my Lenten disciplines, I’m using a tool from The Society of Saint John the Evangelist called “Growing a Rule of Life.”

As Marjorie Thompson writes:

Certain kinds of plants need support in order to grow properly. Tomatoes need stakes, and beans must attach themselves to suspended strings… human beings are much like these plants… we need structure in order to have enough space, air, and light to flourish. Structure gives us the freedom to grow as we are meant to.

And a rule of life is just that kind of structure and support.  There have been times in my life when I have practiced this kind of rule of life: a college covenant discipleship group comes to mind.  But it has been a while since I have formed one and I’m looking forward to this season of structured discernment.

 

Today’s question from SSJE asks: How might the rhythms you observe in nature inform the way you live?

 

I was struck today by the snow falling outside of my window.  During this time of year, it seems like we find ourselves in an endless cycle of snow, melting/slush/dirty heaps of snow, and then it snows once again.

This morning, we gathered for Community Ashes at a local coffee shop.  We gathered to remember our common humanity and sinfulness. We gathered in solidarity with those across this world who are suffering and mourning.  And when I pulled up to the coffee shop at 6:20 am… there was that gross, dirty snow all along the sides of the road.  I pulled out the supplies and we began to impose the dark, sooty, ashes – signs of our mortality and repentance – upon one another’s foreheads.

Then a snow flake fell.

And another.

And before long, the whole world outside the window was blanketed in silent, fluffy, pristine snow.

 

On the very day we echo the words of Psalm 51, pure white snow fell from the sky.

Have mercy on me, God, according to your faithful love!

Purify me with hyssop and I will be clean;

wash me and I will be whiter than snow.

 

I am a human being, like any other human being. Though I strive for perfection and seek to become more and more like Christ, I have a long way to go.

Just like nature spoke aloud today that fresh snow or bright sunlight will take away the grime, so my life needs God’s mercy and the joy of salvation to cover my mistakes, to melt away my imperfections, to renew my spirit. Over and over again.