Sister, Mother Earth

Author's Note:  Several years ago, I was asked by the Sisters of St. Francis of the Holy Cross, whose Motherhouse is in Bay Settlement on the eastern side of the Green Bay, to offer reflections on the Canticle of the Creatures by St. Francis.  I shared the reflections during an evening gathering that the good sisters call "Silence and Sunset".  After a recent call from the community for a copy of the talk, I decided that I would post them as a series in Embers over the next few weeks.  I highly encourage you to read St Francis' poem as a foundation, and consider these 'companion pieces' to help you reflect more deeply on what the good Saint has to tell us.    


Sister, Mother Earth 

“Learn to savor how good the lord is.” Ps 34:9

We tend to think of October as harvest time, but really that harvest is speaking of the big feed crops of soybeans and corn.  Now, in August is the season of ripeness in small gardens.  The crunch of sweet corn dripping with melted butter, the musky smell of a firm, red tomato, still warm from the afternoon sun, speak of this smaller harvest.  August is meant to be tasted.

It is the August landscape that reveals the many shades of the greens of deep summer.  The leaves of sugar maple and aspen shimmer in the breezes, the blue and white spruce guard the alfalfa fields that checkboard our vision.  A cackling redwing blackbird alights a bullrush reed and sways back and forth like an inverted pendulum.  Each testifies to its own special greenness, each as witness that there is no such thing as sameness in creation. 

The doe and her fawns are still roan red; the fawns, still spotted, continue to gorge on the bounty of this season.  The impatient squirrel is already busy eating acorns that are still green and not yet full-sized, but the tradeoff is that now the shells are still supple and easier to chew through.

August is the time of bluebirds.  Perhaps they are more active this month, perhaps it is the addition of this year’s young, but they are seen more commonly this time of year.  The sandhill cranes that came in raucous flocks in March, then paired off, are now regrouping in the wetlands and fields.

This is the season our sister, Mother Earth calls us to awareness of intricate balance, of community, of relationships each to each other.  In this ripening fullness we are called to a renewed sensitivity to the blessings, the joy and the beauty of life.  Taste it.  “All were created through him; all were created for Him.  He is before all else that is.  In Him, everything continues in being.”  Col, 1:16-17

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan


Photo by Kate Laine on Unsplash

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