Dear Friends,
Take three strides
into the November forest.
Then take three more.
Stand still.
Listen. Look around.
The wind tumbles the wet leaves
across the rutted, stone-strewn floor of the woods.
Water-soaked, they settle into valleys
and pile into fox holes and rabbit holes, gopher holes and the like,
to protect the life sheltered within.
Through the winter, the leaves will blanket and nourish the land,
hold close the roots and self-giving plants
taking their refuge,
worn out from producing whatever
they had been called to by our Creator God.
Spring will find them
reinvigorated or
dead, replaced by a new batch of holy growth.
But till then,
in our wondrous north,
the snow will help –
warming when possible –
freezing when necessary –
hallowing all the land holds dear.
Beyond the November forest
stretch yards and gardens,
crevices in the stone hedges,
living out the same cycle of rest and revitalization.
Don’t we do that?
Don’t we have times of high energy and output,
then little or none.
We are a November people, although not sure we relish this time
when we are like trees without leaves or camped out in forest stillness.
Today,
pause to experience November.
Trust our Ecologist God
who valued all growing things
long before we knew how.
Step off the path
into the welcoming woods.
~ Sister Joan Sobala
(Photo Courtesy of Mary Lou Wenthe)
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