a lenten pilgrimage in real time...

Today I had planned to hit the road back up to Ottawa to be with the L'Arche community. It seems, however, that international borders, my age (am I really a senior?!?) and the arrival of the coronavirus in town had something else in store for me - so I've been sidelined stateside for the foreseeable future. I will miss my dear friends as they feast together tonight, journey deeper into hard truths tomorrow and practice compassion, radical hospitality and a trust in God's grace that is greater than the obvious. In the meantime, I got to go out into the garden.

There is a curious charism to this change in plans - a pilgrimage into Lenten trust, if you will - that honors the wisdom of the holy in all things. I had been preparing a homily for tomorrow night's Eucharist based on the parable of the wheat and tares in St. Matthew's gospel 13: 24-30. This story of upside-down living tells us that during our life time we are all a mixture of nourishment and garbage: wheat and tares look very much alike while ripening making it nearly impossible to sort out the protein from the roughage until the harvest. So too with each life, each epoch, each faith community and each cadre of friends: we are not equipped to fully distinguish the good from the bad as it is all mixed up. Besides, the sorting and judging is not our business. We best let go of such thoughts and trust the One who is Holy to work it out after we've run our race as faithfully as possible. Remember: when the judgment is left up to us alone, everyone who does not look, act, think, speak, smell, worship, dance, or eat like us become the heretical "other."

So rather than drive north - and ponder and pray in the car on my trip which is one of the true gifts of the encounter - I cut up old tree trunks, raked-up last autumn's foliage and took down a few dead birch branches. It was exhausting - and satisfying - in the warm March sunshine. As I mucked around in the dirt and leaves, this quote from Christine Valters Painter kept swimming through my head:

One way to practice peregrinatio in our own lives is to ‘follow the thread,’ which for me means listening to the synchronicities and patterns being revealed daily. When we are in discernment in our lives, and we pay attention to our dreams, as well as other moments that shimmer, we may begin to notice symbols showing up to call us forward. Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, The Soul’s Slow Ripening: 12 Celtic Practices for Seeking the Sacred

Yesterday, sitting next to Louie and Di during worship, we reveled in him belting out the Lord's Prayer and some of the hymns during Eucharist. At one point I leaned over and asked, "Are you going up for Eucharist?" He looked at me with wide eyes and replied, "Gwad, I ALWAYS take communion." I stifled a smile (thinking of the Dos Equis guy: "I don't always go to church but when I do I ALWAYS take communion!") and said, "Yeah, me too. I think that's best." Later we finished playing a game of chess. Whenever I talked him through the implications of a move, he lit up with glee and shouted, "Oh yeah and then THAT would be baaaad!" His exuberance and innocence were like a balm in Gilead. 

Both Louie and Anna want to help us nurture this year's garden - and perhaps we'll start later this month. We now have three native plant and seed catalogs waiting for some decisions. We've sketched out and listed the plants and flowers to add to each terrace as well as the backyard raised beds. It seems that now is the time to take the next step so that we're ready to cultivate our garden of peace with these precious little ones. I will miss being with my L'Arche friends tonight and will hold close in prayer tomorrow. I will also be hauling some huge branches and a bunch of leaves back into the brush to be chopped, composted and scattered before it rains. Today, I return thanks.