Becoming Native

A year ago this week I finalized the purchase of my home in the North Carolina mountains. Though I didn’t actually move until June, I’ve been thinking this week about that memorable event of a year ago. Committing myself to a new place after forty-five years in one community is significant, and I didn’t do it gradually. I couldn’t afford nor did I want to have a vacation home and an apartment in Macon. Wherever I was living, I wanted to be all in, fully committed to a place.

As if to commemorate the purchase of my home, I discovered a Catesby’s Trillium blooming near the porch! First, I love trillium (who doesn’t) and second, the place it was blooming did not seem a hospitable place for it, so near to recent construction and all the debris that the builders left lying on the ground. I was so excited to discover it, and another one, not yet blooming, nearby. Along with the serviceberry, dogwood, and flame azaleas that have been blooming this spring, I am reveling in the colors and discoveries offered by the land here.

A few years ago my word for the year was “native.” When I shared that at work in our weekly staff meeting (we were all sharing our words for the year) I got a few chuckles. Someone said something about deodorant and I had to explain why the word chose me. I won’t go into detail now about how that word shaped my year, but since moving to North Carolina and committing to plant only native plants on this land I am tending, I’ve thought about the long-lasting impact of that word in guiding my life, and in ways that were totally unknown to me in the year I was living into it.

Living on land that for centuries had been the home of the Indigenous Cherokee people, I have a strong sense of responsibility to honor this bit of earth by avoiding non-native plant species, with the exception of daffodils a friend in Macon gave me prior to my move here. As the wild places in our nation are increasingly at risk of being damaged or lost, I want to do what I can to promote habitat for plants and the creatures that depend on them. I know I am not native to this land, being of European ancestry, but I want to live as though I was native, with a strong degree of love and care for this place that is giving life to me.

I’ve been moved by reading Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer, who is both a professor of environmental biology and an enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. While my ancestry does not connect me to the Indigenous people of this land, I appreciate Kimmerer’s words that “for the sake of the peoples and the land, the urgent work of the Second Man (non-native peoples) may be to set aside the ways of the colonist and become Indigenous to place.”

The Catesby’s Trillium and the flame azalea blooming now and the mountain laurel that is just about to bloom all urge me to become Indigenous to this land that more and more feels like it is adopting me as its own. I hope to bloom here in this soil, just as they are.

Harrowing of Hades

Easter! On Sunday the celebrations were widespread and enthusiastic. But Easter isn’t simply a day, it’s a season, fifty days beginning with Easter Sunday and stretching until Pentecost. We are in Eastertide longer than we were in Lent. We are in “feast mode” longer than we were fasting.

That says something to me about God’s abundance. It’s always more than we need, always more than we can even imagine. Yes, even in this season of Eastertide there are still wars, there is still corruption and injustice and terror and abuse. Cynics might say that Christ’s resurrection hasn’t fixed anything, but as someone who has gone through my own hard times (as we all do at some point in life) Easter says to me that I am never left alone, and that the worst thing is never the last thing.

My favorite icon captures this so well. Known as “The Harrowing of Hades”, it shows the risen Christ standing on the gates of Hell, pulling Adam and Eve up with him. Satan is bound and in the darkness beneath Jesus, along with the keys of death and hell. I once heard Elaine Heath speak to the way many churches have modified the Apostle’s Creed to eliminate the line that says “he descended into hell.” She said we need to remember that Jesus will go into Hell to save us. There is no where he will not go to be with us, to restore us to life. The Harrowing of Hades icon always reminds me of that truth. I always display it during Eastertide.

At the Easter Sunrise service at my church, Murphy First UMC, we shared in an Easter Proclamation from the Easter sermon of John Chrysostom, from around 400 AD. It included these words that, as they were proclaimed on Sunday, made me think of the image from the icon:

He destroyed Hell when He descended into it.

He put it into an uproar even as it tasted of His flesh…

Hell was in an uproar because it was done away with.

It was in an uproar because it is mocked.

It was in an uproar, for it is destroyed.

It is in an uproar, for it is annihilated.

It is in an uproar, for it is now made captive.

If you are walking in darkness, the Easter message tells us that evil, injustice, oppression, and grief do not get the last word. We are not alone in our dark seasons. Jesus, who descended into Hell, comes to us in our own versions of Hell, and will not let go of us ever, and will bring us out with him. If you need that hope, I encourage you to get your own Harrowing of Hades icon to remind yourself of the lengths Christ goes for you.

Gathered Together--Community Contemplative Practice

 

Jesus would also die so that God’s children scattered everywhere would be gathered together as one.                                                                                       John 11:52

Reading through the gospel of John for Lent, this verse came in today’s reading. As I read it, what came to mind was the centering prayer time that Pastor Wil is leading each week during Lent. I could see our small circle, practicing centering prayer in community.

There is something special to me about gathering together in person to practice centering prayer or lectio divina or to walk a labyrinth. These are all contemplative practices that can be done alone, but there is something powerful and compelling about being contemplative with others. It’s a completely different experience!

It makes me wonder if John, the mystical gospel writer, was looking to a day when our action in the world would flow from our gathering together as one in contemplation. Practicing silence in community invites the Spirit to speak in ways we may not hear otherwise. Collective silence can draw together scattered minds.

I know I am grateful that my church is offering opportunities this Lent to do contemplative practices in community. It is shaping my Lenten journey in meaningful ways. Gathering together with others to reflect on scripture in silence or to do a twenty-minute sit is countercultural, pushing back at our society’s demand that we must always be doing something. The good news of Jesus tells us that our worth is not tied to our ability to produce. Contemplative practices invite us to live as if we believe that to be true!

A Collect for Beloved Children of God

God of tears,
who is troubled by the death
of every sparrow,
how you must be grieving now.

One hundred fifty girls dead,
your children,
our children,
killed by others who are also beloved by you,
also your children,
with mothers and fathers and families of their own.

I say I want to love as you love, but my heart is
breaking.
Yes, I do want to love as you love;
help me.

Help me.

Keep me from the callousness
that cannot grieve, and yet show me
how to bear up in a world that seems to
hunger and thirst
for hate and blood and death.

Help me
to remember that there is no one
not made in your image, no one
who does not bear
your divine light within.

Give me eyes to see,
even when I don’t want
to look.

Merciful God, abide
in this desert with us.

Small, Happy Moments

As we daily see more and more cruelty in the world around us, and especially within our own country, and add to that the stress of a major winter storm, I found myself earlier this week genuinely afraid. I’m not one who is prone to fear, but it all was feeling overwhelming.

Ironically, I got to spend time with some sixth graders yesterday, sharing ways to use breath and movements to reduce anxiety! It was just what I needed, both the experience of teaching (which I love) and the practice of things I know, but had failed to employ for my own benefit.

I could tell the effect of the practices on myself, because by the time I left the school, my whole outlook had changed. I was lighter, calmer, and more energetic than I’d been in several days.

The icing on the cake came when I received the package of things I’d ordered to help me get through the coming winter storm. Batteries, thermometers for the fridge and freezer, and a phone charger block, were good to have, but there was one thing that made me laugh out loud with delight. It was the blue enameled cast iron pot I bought so I could cook on my propane grill!

When I opened the box and saw it, I was filled with happiness! The color, the size, the weight—all of it was just right. The world hadn’t changed. Fresh cruelty came across my news feed and the winter storm is still on the way, but the combination of breathing practices to reduce stress and a cheery blue one-quart pot was just the recipe for changing my ability to cope with it all.

Mary Oliver, one of my favorite poets, shares wise words in her prose-poem “Don’t Hesitate”:

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything. . . whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

In the midst of much that is terrible, I hope you’ll be alert for small, happy moments. Every time we give in to joy, we fight back some of the darkness.

Waiting for Christmas Carols

Maybe it’s because I spent many an Advent waiting for something to be different, or maybe it’s just that I’m a bit of a liturgical nerd, but Advent is such a meaningful season for me, and one of my Advent practices is to listen, not to Christmas music, but to Advent music. I have an Advent playlist that someone else curated but that I have copied into my own music service provider. The songs speak of the need for a redeemer, of waiting, of darkness, of hope, and of preparation. The songs come from a variety of sources, but the themes of Advent are woven through them.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Christmas music, but waiting for it until it is actually Christmas makes listening to it that much more special. When you consider that Christmas candy and decorations have been in the stores since before Halloween, it’s an act of resistance to not listen to Christmas music until Christmas Eve! And it’s not like I shut it out altogether. I sing it at church or when caroling, and I hear it when I’m in any store. I do love Christmas carols, and I savor the singing of them. It’s just that I appreciate the story that Advent music tells.

Advent holds powerful memories for me, memories of such deep longing for life to be different, for ridicule and loneliness to not be such a prominent part of my life. The scriptures of Advent, in speaking of hope and waiting and light shining in darkness spoke to my heart when I was waiting in my own difficult circumstances. I held them as treasure as I sat in the early morning dark with the Advent wreath lit before the house awoke for the day. I dared to hope in those hours before daylight.

I am grateful that my life is different now, but every Advent that rolls around reminds me of those years of longing in the darkness and I think of others who are in situations where they struggle to hope that things can change, that life can be different, that a savior is coming because God loves them and does not leave them alone. My Advent playlist reminds me that there is still a need for a savior, that the baby born in Bethlehem continues to matter to many who need a reason to hope.

There will be plenty of time for Christmas carols, and like the light, they will break into the season of Advent in various ways and places. But I, for one, will wait to play them, and instead, will play songs about waiting and preparation and the light that is coming. If you are interested in what I’m listening to, here’s a link to the playlist.

Food Blessing Me

Local beef and veggies--the sourdough didn't make it into the photo!

Since moving to North Carolina in June, I have had the good fortune to become acquainted with many people. I’m grateful for friends I’ve made through church, through reconnecting with Young Harris College, and several groups I’m participating in. As an introvert, I knew I would need to find points of connection and that it would require me to step out of my comfort zone to meet new people and become part of a new community.

One of the great joys and surprises has been getting to know local people who are providing much of my food. I found a local farm offering CSA shares and most of my vegetables come from Zach and Ilana, the first-generation farm couple who own Levity Farms, grow amazing food and are also just delightful people to know. While I normally pick up my weekly CSA share not far from me, it’s fun to drive the extra thirty minutes to their farm, where I’ve walked the fields to see what’s growing. They have an especially cool bamboo tunnel you walk through to get from the produce coolers to the fields!

Brasstown Beef @ Ridgefield Farm is only about fifteen minutes away. They raise cattle and sell beef. In addition to being animal welfare certified and certified pasture centered, the farm has also placed a large portion of its land into a conservation easement that protects it from being developed for housing. For a number of years, I have sought to avoid purchasing factory-farmed meat, because of the inhumane way the animals are raised. To drive by the pastures and see the cows that are able to live as they were meant to live makes me happy to purchase beef from this farm!

A young couple the next town over from me bakes the most wonderful sourdough bread! Every time I pick up a loaf from them I enjoy conversation and seeing the progress they are making on opening a storefront on the town square. I also enjoy talking with their children, who are so comfortable with all the folks dropping by to pick up bread. I’m excited to visit The Firefly Café in Hayesville, and look forward to supporting them as they build their business.

I still do make trips to the grocery store, but I relish the fact that I know where much of my food comes from, and know the people who are making it possible, and that the food and the providers are local! In addition to supporting local small businesses, I feel like every purchase I make from any of these folks is putting my own roots deeper into this community I now call home.

While many of us will be saying a blessing over our food this Thanksgiving, I can turn the table and say that my food in this new home is blessing me! To live in such close proximity with people who are providing what I eat is nourishing both to body and soul!