Sister Water

 

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 Water

There are a number of theories as to how the word Wisconsin developed and what its meaning is.  Most trace varied histories of Native American and French missionaries, explorers and fur traders.  The meaning that I prefer, for its poetry and appropriateness if not its accuracy is, “The Gathering of the Waters”.  Historians do agree that the land derived its name from the river that cuts through over 400 miles of granite and sandstone from Lac Vieux Desert in Vilas County southward to Prairie du Chien where it joins the Mississippi River.  The land was named for the river; the river was not named for the land.    

This land is twice blessed as Superior and Michigan – two of the Great Lakes embrace it.  Along their shores lie sun bleached stretches like Schoolhouse Beach on Washington Island - made up of limestones rounded from relentless wave upon wave year upon year; they are smooth like the stones that David used in his sling to face Goliath. 

And there are thousands of smaller inland lakes.  It was on the beach at Lake Namakagon that my son Nathan – just three years old at the time, lay on his belly, chin propped in his hands.  He was gazing intently at something I did not see.  “What are you doing, Nathan?” I asked.  “Just thinking,” he replied.  “Thinking about what?” I probed.  “Just thinking about sand,” he answered.  Sand – at Namakagon mainly pulverized quartz - each grain is a miniscule particle of some enormous rock ridge of cooled magna that succumbed to eons of rains, and snows and freezing and thawing ice sheets.  Water reminds us that God works in God’s time.  God is patient with us.  Even the hardest rock is changed, so too can the hardest heart.  

The lakes are an invitation.  Entering water is like entering into communion.  In the lake you sense the enormity of water; it can completely take you in.  Plunge in and feel the coolness envelop you. 

Then there are the rivers – Peshtigo, Oconto, Wolf, the Pine and the Thunder and others too numerous to mention that laugh loudly in rushing water that gurgles and giggles, spills and slides as it literally cuts winding pathways through the granite spine of the north country. 

In the river you encounter the sheer power of water.  If you visit any stretch of a river over a course of years you will see that the place is always changing.  Wade out and lean into the force of the flow; you will better understand how the waters of the river constantly make all things new.

Water washes us clean physically and spiritually.  Water is pure.  Water is lifegiving.  Water quenches our thirst. 

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash