How many days I lived and had never used
the holy words.
Tenderly I began them when it came to me
to want to, oh mystery irrefutable!
Then I went out of that place
and into a field and lay down
among the weeds and the grasses,
whispering to them, fast, in order to keep
that world also.
I have been on leave from my home congregation as I shift from parish ministry to my community multispecies ministry. I don't know how many days exactly it has been since I was part of the Sunday morning ritual, but it will have been nearly a year by the time I return. Yet I wonder if I have ever left.
Aren't we in this blog exchanging holy words?
And what about the red-winged blackbirds by the sinkhole who squealed at me yesterday so that I wouldn't miss their fine red epaulets?
And the red-shouldered hawks who coupled on the telephone pole during last week's morning walk? He flew off, I hope satisfied. She remained, all fluffed and still, unashamedly content.
Their world is our world. May we treat it holy, to keep it whole.
How do you keep the world whole? Yourself whole?