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Our July worship gathering focused on the theme of resilience. Before worship, we met for a picnic and an opportunity to create and write postcards to send to our Premier asking the provincial government to repeal Bill 5. Both the meal, and the opportunity for action were ways I think we are building resilience as we strengthen our sense of community and take positive action together against government legislation that will harm natural habitats, endangered species, and Indigenous rights.
Resiliency has to do with how we respond to and recover from trauma or adversity in life. The earth itself is facing much adversity and trauma. In 2024, the Center for Action and Contemplation’s Daily Meditation theme for the year was Radical Resilience. In the intro to the series, they wrote, “Radical Resilience is the ability to face hardship with greater love and deeper awareness. We believe that contemplation, the practice of being fully present, is one way to grow more resilient — teaching us how to sustain inner strength, purpose, and connectedness.” In a post from last June, author Cole Arthur Riley wrote, “Resilience isn’t really about returning back to the way you were before, but is much more about reclaiming whatever new shape your [life] has taken. Resilience … doesn’t really ask us to forget, but carries the memory of whatever harm or whatever fire we’ve been through.” (CAC Daily Meditation June 18, 2024) We can see trees here that have been wounded and have a new shape. They carry that memory, and they are living on (or in death are contributing to the living on of the forest community). Where do you see signs of resilience around you? What does the Earth want to teach you about resilience?
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June is strawberry month here in our watershed! The plants bloom early in the month, and by the end, we enjoy fresh, ripe, red strawberries. One of my favourite chapters in Braiding Sweetgrass is "The Gift of Strawberries." Robin Wall Kimmerer writes about how the abundance of wild strawberries in the spring is like a pure gift from the land, and tells a story of picking wild strawberries every June so her mom could make a strawberry pie for her dad for Father’s Day (happy Father’s Day!). Strawberries grow close to the ground, teaching us about humility. Their runners reach out, starting new plants and forming community. They are first fruits, gifts of abundance, heart berries, a seasonal offering enjoyed by humans and more-than-human alike. Robin Wall Kimmerer invites us to learn from strawberries - to see abundance rather than scarcity, and to see the world as made up of gifts. She suggests that “A great longing is upon us, to live again in a world made of gifts.” This month in our worship time, we enjoyed and celebrated God's good gifts of abundance (not scarcity) in the ritual of communion, a feast that makes God's love edible. We shared elements of the earth (bread and wine and strawberries), sharing in abundance and reminding ourselves that these are God's good and beloved gifts, as are we! As always, we offered some of our communion feast back to the land and waters, in recognition of the ways the earth is also broken in these times. We commit to practicing resurrection in the way of the risen Christ! Where do you see abundant gifts around you? Where do you see brokenness? How do you practice resurrection?   Hosanna whisper the hepatica, First ephemerals of the forest floor. Hosanna groan the elder beach, Succumbing to disease. Hosanna sing the nuthatches, Drowned out by the roar of traffic. Hosanna proclaim the deadwood, Offering life to others. Hosanna spoke the oak, Matriarch of this place. Hosanna shouted the stones, When the people were silent. - Wendy Janzen Inspired by Palm Sunday passage in Luke where Jesus says that if the people were silent, then the rocks would cry out, as I listened to the voices of the forest around me on a Sunday afternoon walk through Breithaupt Park. Hosanna means "save us." At our March worship gathering we explored the synchronicity between the church season of Lent (which means to lengthen) and the Spring Equinox when the balance of daylight tips to longer days.
Lent is 40 days for waking up from winter’s ‘death’ to spring’s ‘resurrection.’ 40 days for wandering in the wilderness like the Israelites, slowing down and moving at the pace of our soul so we can better listen to and meet God. We are living in a time of chaos and events that cause a lot of uncertainty and stress. How can we use this season of Lent to wake up to and walk in life-giving light and love, anchoring us through unsettling times? This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.” — Jeremiah 6:16 This month, as you find yourself wandering outdoors, ask yourself these questions:
Our February theme invites us to reflect on the kinds of love that we and our world need at this time. We were not able to meet together in person due to a winter storm warning, but these are the readings and reflection questions we would have used. I hope you can take some time to go on your own self-guided forest church this month!
In a time of upheaval and uncertainty, how do we let love be our guide? This month we are faced with hearts, flowers, and chocolate, with poetry and cards to celebrate romantic love. But love is also relentless, fearless, courageous, bold, inclusive, generous, honest, joyful, wholehearted. In a time of upheaval and uncertainty, how do we let love be our guide? This month we are faced with hearts, flowers, and chocolate, with poetry and cards to celebrate romantic love. But love is also relentless, fearless, courageous, bold, inclusive, generous, honest, joyful, wholehearted. How would you describe the love that you need to see in the world today? Gathering & Grounding - Pause for a moment to ground yourself where you are. Take some deep breaths, look around, listen, feel the air and snow on your skin. Tune into a sense of the sacred presence with you. Readings & Reflections - take these readings onto the land with you: “Love is the greatest force in the universe. It is the heartbeat of the moral cosmos.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” 1 Corinthians 13: 6-7 For further reading, you can look at Dianna Butler Bass's Substack post titled Love Relentlessly. Wandering & Wondering - as you wander, or sit cozily indoors, consider these questions:
Winter's joy comes in fluffy snow
brightening the drab landscape, pillowy soft to catch my falling body, sculptable magic inspiring creativity, insulating life and promise. Joy comes in howling winds and stormy weather that shuts down roads, schools, meetings, creating space to curl up at home and the joy of missing out. Joy comes in the persistent song of a cardinal in February, perched high atop a bare tree, brilliant red against brilliant blue, singing for love and life. Joy comes in remembering we are enough in who we are today. we are not our labours. We are not our achievements. We are deep, strong, resilient, connected. We are made for joy. - Wendy Janzen  This is my found poetry based on a quote I shared in our February newsletter. Here is the full quote, followed by the poem I created.
"Once we stop wishing it were summer, winter can be a glorious season in which the world takes on a sparse beauty... It's a time for reflection and recuperation, for slow replenishment, for putting your house in order. Doing those deeply unfashionable things--slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting--is a radical act now, but it is essential." (Katherine May, in Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times) My poem: Slow down. Stop wishing it were summer. Winter be a glorious season the world a sparse beauty. Time for reflection, recuperation, slow replenishment. Do deeply unfashionable things let spare time expand get enough sleep. Rest is a radical act. - Wendy Janzen We gathered along the banks of our beloved Laurel Creek in the snowy sub-zero temperatures of January. This poem invited us into reflecting on the mind of winter, and we contemplated the similarities with the invitation in Philippians 2:5-7 to 'adopt the mind of Christ.' What do you think? What might you discover if you see the trees, creek, or creatures here on their terms rather than ours? What might God want you do learn by regarding winter?
Due Regard by Wallace Stevens. One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of the January sun; and not to think Of any misery in the sound of the wind, In the sound of a few leaves, Which is the sound of the land Full of the same wind That is blowing in the same bare place For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing themself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is. (Inspired by a prompt from Pádraig Ó Tuama)
I believe in breath, and sunrises, in getting handwritten letters in the mail, in memory and imagination. I believe in the companionship of trees, in crows roosting, in the sound of water flowing over rocks. I believe in spring melt, abundance, colours, texture, silence, and sweetness. In candlelight and darkness. I believe in vastness. In expansive living skies. In dense fog, shadow, and what I cannot see beneath my feet. In gravity. With absolute certainty and absolute uncertainty, I believe in solace and wonder, in poetry, in God. - Wendy Janzen |
AuthorReflections, poetry, prayers, photos, and resources written by Wendy Janzen unless otherwise noted. Archives
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