September 8, 2009
Yesterday unofficially closed summer, and at Sanctuary, in the natural world that surrounds us, we see daily change everywhere. A wolf spider carries her entire brood of eggs on her back as she hurries into hiding, looking like she wears a chenille sweater, and this year, we have mushrooms of all kinds coming up under the trees, in the paths, and in the grasses. I have never studied mushrooms to know about which are edible, or which are poisonous, so I leave all of them alone.
For several years, Charles has been trying to coax a trumpet vine to become a beautiful green arbor that would signal our yard path’s ending and the beginning of the walk toward pasture and woodland. Trumpet vines have a reputation for being aggressive, but Charles felt that there should be enough space, and we both enjoy the bright orange blossoms that it can put forth. Year after year, this plant has refused to follow the structure of the arbor – instead it has flung branches upward and outward as though it were seeking something far grander. This year, it reached outward to the cedar tree to the east, and in satisfaction, actually put forth several blossoms. “Something has to change” says gardener Charles, and I don’t know if he plans on snipping stems, moving the arbor, or building something to accommodate the plant’s intentions.
Tomorrow I return to the doctor looking for help out of this present state of perpetual flu-like symptoms of aches, nausea, and dreadful weariness. I sleep a lot, ingest painkillers, and consider blood that is forgetting how to do its work properly. It is not life as I want it to be, and it includes moments when I would like to weep and wail and kick trees – only the practical voice in my head delays me as it points out that swollen eyes, a sore throat and bruised feet would not change a single molecule of the present reality. Fortunately, the days are filled with sunlight and grand weather, and each one has some thing to behold, or hear, or experience. Today included sighting a pinkish-orange sun rising through a grey-blue morning mist, a telephone conversation with a dear offspring, and laughter with Charles as he recounted some of his teaching experiences.
We always have hope and the comfort of faith that includes acceptance of what life contains. Therefore the prayers go on, “Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping that awake we may watch with Christ and asleep we may rest in peace” and the spiritual songs continue to sound. In the hymn “The Day Thou Gavest” the poet says “The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended, The darkness falls at thy behest; To thee our morning hymns ascended, thy praise shall hallow now our rest. As o’er each continent and island the dawn leads on another day. The voice of prayer is never silent, nor dies the strain of praise away. The sun, that bids us rest is waking thy children under western skies, And hour by hour, as day is breaking, Fresh hymns of thankful praise arise”. These are small examples of the many that accompany me on my journey.