nobody told me there'd be days like this...

This is a grand time to be present in the Berkshires: I planted phlox this afternoon, transplanted 8 wild sunflowers, walked around the garden to see how the gladiolas and irises were doing (quite well), and took the time to bask in the simple beauty of this place. The lilacs are here. What might be Otto Luyken Laurel is happening, too even as the cherry blossoms fade. It is a weird juxtaposition of realities for me: while I wander quietly through my floral bubble of privilege, so much of my country is suffering, Indeed, this is a day when grief fills the air as yet another white police officer murders yet another black man and we achieve the ghastly milestone of 100,00+ cornavirus deaths (80K of which were preventable! and 60% of whom are black and brown people.) Being an old timer, my heart drifts back to Brother John Lennon singing: Nobody told me there'd be days like this... strange times indeed!)

Earlier in the day I finished writing (well, almost) my message for this Sunday. It is the feast of Pentecost and I will be live-streaming with my friends from First Church in Williamstown. NOTE: I will be posting a link to this web page so that those who would like to tune in @ 10 am may do so; this will be a one week change from my regular Be Still and Know setting, ok? So watch for the details. We had a Zoom meeting/rehearsal, too. What a joy to reconnect with this faith community. Back when sheltering in place/self-quarantining was a novelty, I had the privilege of helping them go live with worship. And now we get to do it again for Pentecost - only this time with Zoom! 

During all of this solitude, I have found myself taking on a few books I never got around to when they first arrived. Like Karen Armstrong's short overview of "the Bible," Gertrud Mueller-Nelson's look at fairy tales entitled, Here All Dwell Free: Stories to Heal the Wounded Feminine, and Ancient and Medieval Legacies in the United Church of Christ Living Theological Heritage series. Next week it is on to: Inviting the Mystic/Supporting the Prophetic by Dyckman and Carroll; The Little Way of St. Therese of Lisieux by John Nelson; The Other Side of Silence by Morton Kelsey; The Givenness of Things by Marilynne Robinson; and a reread of The Ideal Bakery by Donald Hall.

Di turned me on to a new poet, Beth Hautala, who crafted this gem.

Sometimes,
beautiful things fall apart.
That doesn't mean
they weren't beautiful.
Grief doesn't cancel joy.
It highlights our capacity
to hold it.

This rings so true to me today...