I don’t know about you, but I feel like I have taken a lot of hits these last two years. Expectations of health and safety have been shattered by a virus. Hopes for professional success exchanged for survival. And, community replaced by raw emotions and reactionary politics. It has been tough to say the least. I know that I am not alone in these feelings.
This year I have been drawn to the writings and personal history of Saint Francis, a fantastic monk with a quirky love for nature. St. Francis is fascinating on many levels, but I have especially been drawn to his love of nature. Like many people, during the Pandemic I was drawn to gardening as a coping mechanism. And truly, my deck garden and dining room plants have become a bright spot during this unpredictable time. St. Francis was correct that nature can reveal God to us.
If you have never heard the story of this Saint, you won’t know that he was odd and wonderful all at the same time. He felt a love for nature that led him to commune with all creatures, and there are some fairytale worthy stories about Francis. In fact, his stories are so inspiring that reading about him caused me to play with my own spiritual practices a little. By that, I mean that before my morning studies, I have started each day by praying outside.
Now, don’t start picturing me running through the woods like that Saint. No, that is a little much even for my curious spirituality. Rather, I like to pray barefoot (Holy ground) on my deck in the morning before I begin my study time with God. Nothing special in terms of prayer, just me, the birds, the trees, and the Lord’s Prayer. Quiet. Pre-Dawn. Barefoot in a hoodie (it’s cold these days). Wind in trees sometimes. Praying a communal prayer…”Our Father…” with the trees planted by God, the birds who fly on God’s breath, and my little sister Squirrel who has decided to live in the birdbath I installed.
Being in nature with this simple, all-encompassing prayer brings me peace at the start of my day. Some days, if I hit the snooze, I get a little ambient light from the blue-purple start to the sunrise. Some days, I get a little pre-study shower. And, other days, the wind prays with me, blowing through the trees.
This week, I have been struck by the stars in the clear sky just before dawn. Directly over my head, the Big Dipper has appeared with its cup full of grace. Looking at that constellation that caused me such wonder in middle school, I have this feeling that everything is as it should be. The Universe just keeps keeping on. Those stars have been a marker for thousands of years. For all the time that man has walked on this Earth, people have seen that soup spoon and marked their place in the Universe. And while intellectually I know that the Big Dipper will soon shift due to the changing seasons, that isn’t what struck me. I didn’t feel small in comparison to the Universe and lost in comparison to time; I feel seen. I feel the largess of being a part of everything. I feel like I am exactly where I am made to be. I feel at home.
It isn’t often that we feel that way, especially in these times. We need to cherish the message of nature. That is what Francis wanted to teach us. He wanted us to remember that the sun, the moon, the stars, the creatures of the Earth are still there, and they remind us that God is too. We are all, creatures big and small, held within those stars; still there like the Big Dipper.
