Waking this morning, gorgeous sunshine pours into the room. There is snow, of course, and it is minus 12 Centigrade. It’s brisk out there! And yet, the spruce, the hardy bamboo, the cypress are still green and the yard doesn’t look totally dead – there is life there – and when the spring does come, the tiny helleborine orchids which I discovered growing wild in the yard will pop up again, and I will be on my hands and knees right into the dirt, moving things, planting bulbs and vegetables. And isn’t it amazing how the sun can change our mood in a moment, so that even on freezing cold day we can smile, because the sun is shining.
Most of us who will be reading these reflections identify quickly with God through the beauty of nature. I do – because the incredible diversity and breath of nature is signature of a God of creation. I feel most alive walking a beach, breathing fresh air, or sitting in a forest by a mountain stream in Japan, inhaling the “green”, almost weeping at the beauty of cherry trees, and reminding myself how ultra-fortunate Norio and I are to have two homes, two places to live and enjoy. Yet how many people live in places where there is no longer beauty – or perhaps I should say – where beauty is hard to find. Countries in the Middle East which once were thriving democracies – Iran, Afghanistan to name two– where women were once equal; now flattened and beaten by greed and western politics; where women no longer have those freedoms, where youngsters are often conscripted into fanatic groups based in violence masked as religion. Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, Nigeria, Palestine – all those places in North Africa where people struggle for the things which we have right at our fingertips. Nature might often be seen as an enemy, not a friend.
It isn’t easy to balance awareness of how much we are graced, and how much others have grace taken away – it’s a fine line down the middle of this road we walk – and a reminder that we are all human and that our only hope for survival as human beings is through the care and concern we are able to offer our neighbor – near or far – in any way we can.
I am not trying to depress us – but this is Lent, and it’s our “introspection” journey along the path. So even as I bounce out of bed smiling at the sun, there is that corner of me which says “not everyone”.
