Come walk with me in the peak Autumn beauty of the Northwoods. To say that I love this time of year is an understatement. Most everyone can appreciate the colorful falling leaves---it reveals the 'true self' of a tree when its leaves are no longer producing chlorophyll. Their true colors are revealed, and there is something simple … [Read More...]
The Heavens Were Weeping
As we entered the first full week of the New Year, a fog had fallen on us. It is usually the coldest period of Winter, but normal was nowhere in sight. We were under the influence of an inversion, when cool air is trapped under a layer of warm air. Fog is often present, and with freezing temperatures and no wind, soft rime ice formed on most everything.
It continued for days, through the week of the horrific Capitol riots. It is an uneasy time during an inversion, defined as ‘a reversal of order and function.’ It is a time when air quality plummets, pollution increases, and health problems can be exacerbated. The fog was so pervasive that the frost stayed on the trees all day long, another unusual occurrence. Three days after the riot, we walked at Bend in the River park through a world of ice. It was as if the heavens were weeping—so many saints and souls shedding tears on us Earthly humans. It was a convergence of physical science and soul-stirring spirituality, which is to say, like most every single day of our existence. Most days we are oblivious to that physical–spiritual convergence, but this display of fog and ice in the wake of the week’s tragedies tied the two together with a binding twine and a flourished bow.
And so I accepted the incredibly beautiful ice as the weeping of those souls, those angels of heaven who have overcome evil and division, lies and distortion, hatred and violence. I embraced that beautiful ice as a balm of prayer and blessing from the souls who see all and know Truth.
It is a prayer for those who blend in with those around them…
and for those who stand out in a crowd.
For those in the foreground, seen and awed, for those in the background, tall and unwavering, and for those in the unremarkable middle who go unnoticed.
There is a blessing for busyness that can obscure the simplicity and satisfaction of ‘doing nothing.’
A prayer for our leaders in positions of power and stature that aged wisdom and ethics guide their decisions.
An abundance of blessings for those who work tirelessly to uphold our laws, keep us healthy and safe, teach and take care of our children.
A prayer for equality, equanimity, and acceptance for all who seem different from us.
Blessings for those who walk the line and uphold the guardrails of our society…
and for those whose voices bravely speak out in righteousness against power and partisan pressure.
A prayer for those who stand tall in the principles of goodness and in the mysteries of spiritual life…
and for those who fall from those principles.
Blessings for those who forge their own trails—may they be protected.
Special prayers for our representatives whose ideologies differ that they will remember their oaths, their altruistic purpose, and the concepts of community and compromise.
Blessings on the ecosystems of our natural world—may they be restored and protected, and may each of us be blessed stewards of God’s creation.
And finally, a prayer for clear-sightedness for what’s ahead.
Despite the fog, the differences, and the destruction, may these blessings and bridges of ice bring us to a place of respect, responsibility, accountability, and decency. Lord, hear our prayers.
In the Fog
I vividly remember a time in my life some years ago, when I felt confused and uncertain about what I was doing. The once rock-solid thoughts and ideals that had sustained me for decades fell away in a tattered heap, like a neglected old barn. I couldn’t think straight, I felt isolated from the swirl of people around me, and I couldn’t envision a path that would lead me out of that fog.
Central Minnesota has been in a fog for the last week. A warm front trapped our cool, snow-covered ground in an inversion. Icy rain fell a week ago Monday, coating sidewalks and roads in a slippery, bumpy film. By Wednesday, fog was forming above the rivers and wrapping the trees in frost. Friday, the temperature slid above freezing and started melting the snow.
The fog became denser as the water vapor was trapped beneath the thick clouds.
Water droplets formed on everything.
The surprising December thaw was the first in our seven years of living in Minnesota. Our frigid and snowy November seemed to have been inverted with December. The burlapped spruce, prepared for the dry, cold winds of winter, was drenched in fog and moisture. Our carefully planned protection was not needed–at least not yet.
I followed the path from our house to the river overlook.
The fog was thick on the top of our hill, but over the river, it was a curtain of wet whiteness. (Here’s what it looks like on a clear day-sixth picture of the post.)
On the way back home, I passed a slushy puddle filled with oak leaves. It was a meeting of fall and winter. The bare trees were represented by their reflection in the melted snow.
In the same puddle, fox prints were cast in the slushy ice. Proof of her whereabouts. A meeting of human and fox tracks.
I could not see the river–I couldn’t even see the hillside and trees that went down to the river. The fog enveloped them all. It was confusing and surreal. It was like they didn’t exist.
That’s what the fog does in our lives. It slowly crawls over us, fooling us into believing that we know where we’re going. It can be unexpected and unexplained. It can lull us into thinking that what we can’t see doesn’t exist. But even in the thickest fog, the River is there. Even behind the burlap wall of protection, the Spruce is there. Even though I didn’t see the Fox, she was there. Each of us is there. Our path out of the fog happens one step at a time. Slowly we find our way. Then one day, we see our reflection in the place where Past meets Present. And with gladness, we notice that the fog has lifted.