Simply....glorious

There is something about spring --- in a word, the

season is glorious. Every day I notice something else in bloom, another purple flower, a deep red bud, how full the trees are becoming, how green and rich and lush.

Spring is a sensory explosion and, sinuses be damned, the smells of the blooms and the gentle breezes make it all worth it!

Spring is designed to get us outside and to pay attention. In the rush of everything coming to life and at times so quickly, the season slows us down and demands that we observe and pay attention. It is this action that will lead to new life stirring in us as well; quiet times and awareness lead to spiritual awakenings.

We’ve all been asked, “What’s your favorite season?” Though I’ve always been a fan of fall, I can honestly say I celebrate each and every one. Having four distinct seasons is one of the blessings of living in this part of the country. The quiet and starkness of winter; the color and energy of spring; the heat and brightness of summer; the drawing in and changes of autumn --- each are gifts to be noticed and appreciated and experienced.

If you really want to make note of the seasons, pay attention to the trees. In a previous post, I mentioned going outside and spending time with a tree. A reader responded by asking how exactly does one do that? Simple: Go outside and sit underneath a tree, lean against the trunk, look up into the light coming through the leaves, watch, listen, learn the importance of being grounded and able to move with the wind.

Spring truly is glorious…..


sj;

The Natural State

Yowzers! It's been a week and I do not like being so out of focus and out of balance that I do not do what I like to do and, in part, that's write.

This week we celebrated Earth Day and really, shouldn't every day be Earth Day?

In my life-long recognition of Earth Day, I have planted pine trees with my parents and an oak tree with a group of kids from the church and the community.

I have spent my summer family vacations camping in the woods of Tionesta; using the cold, clear mountain stream as a natural refrigerator, walking in fields full of ferns, and marveling at my mother preparing a full course meal using camping gear skillets and pots and a dutch oven.

My appreciation for and love of nature grows from the foundation of my family and the influence of my father.

My Dad loved being outdoors. He was a skilled and avid hunter. His annual garden was legendary. He knew his stuff --- one of my fondest memories is drawing on my Dad's knowledge of the outdoors and hiking in the woods listening to his learning and using that to create an A+ Indigenous Trees of Pennsylvania Project when I was in the third grade.

One of my father's favorite times was to gather the whole family for Dad's version of having Sunday dinner out......literally.....all of us would hike into the woods, build a campfire, and cook our Sunday supper. Dad was a good leader and made sure everyone had a job to do. In case your wondering, I excelled at gathering wood for the fire. Because I was too little to carry the backpacks full of food and gear (that task was given to my brothers) and because (shock alert) I was spoiled and whined that I wanted to carry something, my Dad let me lug the skillet into the woods. Of course, I grew bored with this within 10 minutes and the skillet eventually made it into one of the backpacks much to the irritation of my siblings. For me, a win-win.

In many ways, I owe my love for nature and my need to spend time there and be nurtured by creation, to my Dad.

Friends, we need to commit ourselves to being better stewards of the planet. It starts with a respect for nature and understanding the truth in the statement that "what we do to the earth, we do to ourselves."

If willing, here's your assignment, you can choose one or all of the following. Let me know how it goes:

1. Spend 15 minutes of quality time with a tree.
2. Once a week, get out into the woods and waters.
3. If not yet familiar, discover the poetry of
Mary Oliver.

By the way, the photo for this post is of my father and me hiking in the woods. This was a serious hike and you learned early to be tough and make the steep climb.

Get outside!

sj;

That's how the cookie crumbles

In the role of local church pastor, I’ve had my fair share to be a guest at meals that…..how to say it….may not have included my favorite or appealing culinary fare.

Prior to starting seminary, I was selected to participate in the annual conference’s summer intern program. It was a wonderful experience and an opportunity to get to know and be in ministry with a wonderful congregation and a very supportive pastor. To provide the members of the congregation an opportunity to meet the “summer intern” (that would be me) the local committee set up a program where each day I had lunch and dinner at a different parishioner’s home.

This was a fantastic plan and, believe me, I ate very well. The delightful woman who arranged my dining schedule made it a point to choose some of the best cooks the congregation had to offer. However…..

There was the time I had dinner at a home where the woman of the house welcomed me in, told me to sit on the stool at the countertop, threw out a can of baked beans, a loaf of white bread, a Tupperware container of sauerkraut, and a can of chicken. I know….YUM! She said, “Help yourself. I have to get ready for a meeting so feel free to stay as long as you want and just close the door behind you when you leave.” I know….with fine cuisine like this, who’d want to leave? I thanked her and stared at the spread provided and thought I hope she leaves quickly so I can get to the local “Dairy Barn” Ice Cream stand. She did. I did.

I share this story in light of the latest Mitt Romney miss-speak. Folks like to call President Obama the “teleprompter president,” yet, let’s be honest, whenever Mitt is off script his press agent reaches for the Xanax.

I write in honor of all the wonderful bakeries that are part of Pittsburgh and the surrounding area. I’ve been to the “Bethel Bakery” and it is a delight! They were the local bakery who began the chocolate-iced chocolate cakes shaped to look (no, Governor, not taste) like hockey pucks.

Now, even in the likelihood that the cookies provided at the event yesterday were from “Al’s Beer and Fireworks Outlet,” Mr. Mitt should know to take a bite of the cookie, express, “Mmmmmm…” and then smile for a fulfilled photo-op.

I don’t know about you, yet, as a child I was taught to say, “Please” and “Thank You” and to “mind my manners” ---- a great phrase as most of good manners comes from using your head.

sj;