Yesterday morning, I sat in on a retreat about Creation Spirituality. I listened to incredible stories of the ways our Spirits interconnect with the Spirit of Earth's creation, of the ways we ache when creation aches.
Yesterday afternoon, I thought about my to-do list for today.
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
Yesterday evening, I knew exactly what I wanted to write here in the blog.
This morning, while praying I asked God to grace me today with a lesson in letting go.
So much depends
upon
a blue car
splattered with mud
speeding down the road.
After Liturgy, I was going for a walk when I saw a doe crossing the road. A fawn followed behind and across the road with the mother, the first fawn that I spotted this season.
so much depends
upon
a car that comes
down the road
and the baby deer
that, too, comes
back on the road
to go the other way.
The fawn was lying lifeless on the road, and I turned around and started walking toward Glinodo, our lake property, instead of continuing my walk. I sat by the lake and said prayers for the fawn and the life that had just been lost, the poor doe, and the driver of the car.
As I prayed, I thought about the gift of young life. I also thought about one of my favorite books that I taught to young life as a fourth-grade teacher, Love That Dog, by Sharon Creech. In the book, a fourth grader named Jack grows to love poetry and becomes quite the poet himself. He reads The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams, which inspires him to write his own poem about his dog, Sky, who was killed by a blue car splattered with mud.
My afternoon so much depended upon what came before. I let go of my to-do list, as I ached for the fawn. I read Love That Dog and wrote a poem to post on the blog that I could not have known I was going to write last night.
Let us walk in the holy presence.
