I knew there would be birds this morning.
A cold front moved through last night, the cloudy remnants passing by this morning. I knew the ground was wet, the air still warm and I knew there would be birds and there were.
What I didn't know was that the wind that swirled around me yesterday morning would persist and grow through the night and that, combined with the rain, would turn our prayer labyrinth into a bog, and break more limbs from the trees by the water.
The ground will dry and the labyrinth will be passable again.
The tree limb will be removed and will go on to nourish the earth in other ways.
I was struck by the break in the limb, by the jagged quality of the wood, how the very fibers poked through like tiny hairs. It was a horrific break and I found myself so tempted to lay a hand on it in comfort and tell it that it will be all right.
It is only fitting that there would be broken things on church property, for churches are filled with broken people.
We are all broken or were broken, have been broken and have been healed and then broken again. We go to church sometimes blind to the cracks that decorate our bodies like the cracks on the finest china. We know that only one thing can heal us.
So we bond with other broken people and together, in community, we worship, we find peace and spirit and holiness and all the things that fill and heal in permanent ways.
A cold front moved through last night, the cloudy remnants passing by this morning. I knew the ground was wet, the air still warm and I knew there would be birds and there were.
What I didn't know was that the wind that swirled around me yesterday morning would persist and grow through the night and that, combined with the rain, would turn our prayer labyrinth into a bog, and break more limbs from the trees by the water.
The ground will dry and the labyrinth will be passable again.
The tree limb will be removed and will go on to nourish the earth in other ways.
I was struck by the break in the limb, by the jagged quality of the wood, how the very fibers poked through like tiny hairs. It was a horrific break and I found myself so tempted to lay a hand on it in comfort and tell it that it will be all right.
It is only fitting that there would be broken things on church property, for churches are filled with broken people.
We are all broken or were broken, have been broken and have been healed and then broken again. We go to church sometimes blind to the cracks that decorate our bodies like the cracks on the finest china. We know that only one thing can heal us.
So we bond with other broken people and together, in community, we worship, we find peace and spirit and holiness and all the things that fill and heal in permanent ways.
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