"When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be."
— Lao Tzu

A friend this morning told me that she had sat having her morning coffee as she watched the leaves fall from the tree near her deck. She remarked: "As I watched them let go, I wondered what I needed to let go of. What am I holding on to that needs to be released?" It is a great metaphor, a great question. And I love the idea that it was the wisdom of that tree that birthed the big question in her mind.

Of course in telling me her story, the question got passed on as these things often do and so now I, too, have been asking myself this question. "What do I need to let go of?" Outside my office window the enormous oak tree is in a curious state: some leaves very brown, others yellowing, still other are as green as July. Obviously this tree represents a varied state of letting go, much as we often do. There are parts of my life that are going along just fine and I have no need to release a thing. But other parts are yellowing and need to continue to turn brown…..and finally let go.

Letting go is a scary thing. As I watched a leaf fall slowly to the ground just now, I wondered about its fall. Will it be soft? Will it collide with the gravel and get scratched up? Will it fall into the cold water that still stands from an earlier rain? Will it land on the playground equipment and get carried away on the shoe of a child playing beneath the giant tree? Letting go…a scary but necessary thing for growth. I know this lesson from watching this same tree for many years.

And so I ask myself again….and I ask you…what things must be ‘let go’ to make room for the growth that is to come?How might each of us learn from the wisdom of the trees that, each year, release the life that has been in order to embrace what is yet to be?

These are big questions for our very big lives.

I woke up early…my usual practice…on the shores of Lake Koronis. Tiptoeing out of the retreat house where I am staying, I walked out to be greeted by the first frost of the season. At this particular retreat house, coffee does not arrive until well after I am awake, so I headed toward my car to go into the small town near by in search of the first cup of the day. My eyes were drawn to the night sky, blue with purity and the lack of city lights to diffuse its clear beauty.The chill of the early morning shot through my still sleepy senses. Opening my car door, I saw it….frost on all the windows. I was not prepared and had to reach in for a seldom used credit card to do the dirty work of clearing my windows. That accomplished, I started my drive into town. Over the lake the sky was just emerging with the pink-gold shine of dawn. Overhead the silver-white full moon shown like a beacon in the sky. Here I was…on the cusp of a new day.

Yesterday, Sally Dyck, our Bishop, talked with a group of United Methodists about these times in which we are living. She spoke of what we have known to be the church and how what has been is no longer and yet what the church will become is still unknown to us. She encouraged us to be open to what we will be called to as leaders in the church, what our faith communities will be called to, as we live into what it means to be the church in a new day. Here we are…..on the cusp of a mystery.

Last week as people talked about the changes in our country, the flagging economy, the upcoming elections, there were expressions of anxiety but also hope, uncertainty but also inspiration. We cannot know what we will learn from these times. We can only live on the cusp of what is to be with faith and with an assurance that we do not travel alone. We travel with one another, held by the One who has sustained us from the beginning.

"Our true home is in the present moment.
To live in the present moment is a miracle.
The miracle is not to walk on water.
The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment,
to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.
Peace is all around us–
in the world and in nature–
and within us–
in our bodies and our spirits.
Once we learn to touch this peace,
we will be healed and transformed.
It is not a matter of faith;
it is a matter of practice. "

~Thich Nhat Hahn

It seems the majority of my conversations these days are consumed with the economic crisis in our country and around the world. No matter how a conversation begins and what the topic is, it seems the subject pretty quickly veers off, mirroring a sense of anxiety and lack of control. I don’t know about you but It is easy for me to become obsessed with listening, analyzing and stewing over every little detail reported by the media, every new comment delivered by the government and Wall Street.

This morning I woke up tired….tired of thinking about it all. I know it is a significant time in our history and that the pain is being felt, and will continue, for some time to come and I don’t mean to diminish that. But, at least for today, I need a break. I need a break from all the worry, from the speculation, from the fear mongering. So I thought of all the things that I can do instead that will help me see the things that are right in front of me, those things I may have some influence on, some control over, that will give me a break from it all. I was reminded of a colleague who when asked how he is, in even the most stressful of times, always says:"In all the ways that matter, I am just fine."

Here are just some of the things I thought of: I can take a walk, taking in the beautiful fall colors, kicking the fallen leaves as I go. I can buy some pumpkins for my front porch. I can make cookies and enjoy the wonderful smell that will waft through our house. I can read a good book, hopefully one with a wonderful story set in a place I’ve always wanted to go, maybe even one with a little romance. I can play in the backyard with the kids next door who always make me laugh and bring me such joy. I can visit a friend who is in the hospital. I can listen to some wonderful music and dance around my living room. I can make a big pot of soup and invite friends over to share it. I can sing a song at the top of my lungs. I can sit in my rocking chair and simply rock. I can call my Mom. I can clean out a drawer or a closet. I can say a prayer for all the children of the world. I can pray for their safety and for those who care for them. I can make a list of all the blessings in my life. I can treasure this day which God has made and be glad for all I have. I can reach out to those who are less fortunate.I can pray for the wisdom and discernment of those who are making important decisions on our behalf. I can pray for their honesty with themselves and with us. So many things I can do.

It is times like these, when it is so easy to focus on what can’t be done, that it is good to take stock of what can be.Times like these can remind us of what is truly important, what ultimately sustains us, what bring us joy. Someone much wiser than I said:" Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you."(Philippians 4:8-9)

I think the apostle Paul got it right. Sound advice for taking a break in difficult times.

Have a blessed weekend………………………..

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.
     – Margaret Mead

Over the years I have tried to point out to our two sons the many important lessons one learns while playing a team sport. I have tried, without being too preachy I hope, to underscore that age old adage that "It is not so much whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game." You can probably imagine the eye rolling that statement has elicited.

The last several weeks have had me once again thinking about all that can be learned while playing a sport besides the thrill of victory. Our younger son has played soccer since he was about four years old. He is now in his senior year of high school and we have spent the last weeks watching his team try to overcome many obstacles. As sports go, here are just some of them: They are a young team. They are inexperienced and many lack confidence. Most have not had the benefit of the intense development programs of many of their opposing teams. They have not played together for years as some other teams have. There are even some language and cultural barriers to team building, different ways of thinking about and playing the game.

All of these reasons and certainly others contributed to what on paper could be seen as a dismal season. They won few games, tied a few and lost many. On paper this is a losing team. But no one who was watching their final game last evening, which they lost, could see the bonds that have built between these boys. No one could see the way the senior captains had mentored and coached the younger boys into a place of confidence that wouldn’t have seemed possible in August. No one would have noticed the huge change in their work ethic, how they gave their all till the bitter end even though they had no chance of winning. No one would have seen that these boys, strangers many of them only weeks ago, are now friends in two languages. No one could hear the encouragement and hope they gave one another before this final game, not only for this season, but for the eight seniors who took the field.

If Hollywood had written last night’s script, this team would have been victorious in the final moments of the game and a big musical score would have thundered out of the theater speakers while the audience cheered and cried. But this wasn’t Hollywood.This was Minnesota and the underdogs remained just that. Oh, there were tears alright. Tears of sadness, of course. Tears of knowing that something wonderful had come to an end. But also tears, I think, for all that had been gained and the important lessons that were learned. Life lessons.

"You shall ask

What good are
dead leaves

And I will tell
you

They nourish the
sore earth.

You shall ask

What reason is
there for winter

And I will tell
you

To bring about
new leaves.

You shall ask

Why are the
leaves so green

And I will tell
you

Because they are
rich with life

You shall ask

Why must summer
end

And I will tell
you

So that the
leaves can die."

  ~Nancy Wood

Yesterday was a rain day. Minnesotans talk often, some fondly, of snow days. But yesterday was a rain day. We needed the moisture. Many people have taken advantage of these mild fall days to plant trees and shrubs and the rain was welcome. The more than an inch of rain will provide much needed nourishment as these plants prepare for the winter months.

Later in the day the rain tapered off and as I drove home from work I was stunned by the brilliance of the fall colors. The day before the red, orange, and yellow leaves were noticeable but yesterday their colors simply shone with autumn beauty. Along the Mississippi river the trees danced with color weaving among the still lush green of summer leaves. Was it the rain that caused them to shine so brightly? Or was the brilliance caused by the contrast of green against the other fall colors? I wondered.

I thought about how rain is often used as a metaphor in spiritual writing, mirroring the cleansing that often comes before enlightenment, before salvation, before wholeness. The act of being washed, as the trees were yesterday, brings about newness, a fresh start, a beauty not seen before, a new way of being.

As I crossed a bridge on Highway 13 that reveals a ravine complete with a waterfall, I looked into the rolling folds of the hills that form this landmark. The sight took my breath away. The maples, birches, oak and pine trees formed a quilt of brilliant color, a testament to the cycles of birth, life, and death and the beauty of each season. The rain had washed them clean so they could show their true colors to the world for one of the last times this year. I was blessed to witness this miracle and thankful for the eyes to see such beauty in the world.

"What
do we mean by patriotism in the context of our times? I venture to
suggest that what we mean is a sense of national responsibility … a
patriotism which is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the
tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime."  ~Adlai Stevenson

Over the weekend my husband and I headed to downtown St. Paul for the street dance held every year after the opening Prairie Home Companion Show. Saturday night was October in its perfection. The street in front of the Fitzgerald Theater was closed off and long tables covered in red checkered table cloths lined the street. Bright orange pumpkins sat on the tables and people autographed them as they sat eating meatloaf and mashed potatoes. At the far end of the street,a large stage had been erected and music played, loon calls were heard from people of all ages, dance contest winners were named and the most beautiful baby was chosen. How can one baby be more beautiful than the next, I say? But it was all in good fun. The music was down home and the mood was relaxed and good spirited.

That’s when Garrison Keillor stepped to the microphone and asked everyone present to sing with him. The band began the introduction and I realized we were not going to sing "You Are My Sunshine" or some other folk song but instead "The Star Spangled Banner."

Here is moment of self-disclosure. I am not fond of this song. As songs that speak of the love I have for our country, I vote for "American the Beautiful." For my money, the tune is lovely, singable and nearly everyone sounds good singing it. Add to that the wonderful words that tell of the vast diversity of the landscape that is the United States, and I believe you can’t miss. But that’s just me. I have stood in more stadiums than I care to think of and listened as bands, individuals and choirs sing our national anthem, sometimes with limited skill, and it always feels like the obligatory act before the real fun begins. Again, that’s just me.

But on Saturday night something amazing, something magical, something miraculous happened as strangers began singing together. Folks who had been talking while the other entertainment was happening, rose from their rented folding chairs. Men removed their hats. Even the children that had been wiggling and dancing with abandon stopped. As if we had rehearsed it under the baton of the director of the St. Olaf Choir, we sang…..some added harmony….while others gave their all to the melody that we know so well. A great silence hung in the autumn sky and for that moment in time we were a people suspended in time, unruffled and unaffected by the negative political climate, without fear of any economic downturn. This gathered body of strangers became a people united by the universal language, music, and the eternal human experience… hope.

"But ask now the beasts,
and they will teach you;
the birds of the air,
and they will tell you;
ask the plants of the earth,
and they will teach you;
and the fish of the sea will
declare to you.
Who among all these does not know
that the hand of God has done this?
In God’s hand is the life of every living
thing and the breath of every human being."
                        ~Job 12:7-10

As a rule people don’t delve into the book of Job much. It is a painful text, a depressing story in some ways. Job, who thinks of himself as a faithful man, is plagued by all kinds of hardships both physical and mental, and does some serious battle with himself, his friends and with God. He sticks with it though and wisdom comes in the end. For at least two people I know, this is their favorite book of the Bible. For one of those the text above is their favorite scripture.

This Sunday we will celebrate the Blessing of the Animals at our church. For Roman Catholics it marks the Sunday nearest the Feast Day of St. Francis, the saint known for his love and care of all Creation. It is an exciting Sunday in our community as people, both members and visitors, bring the pets that complete the circle of their family to church to be blessed and to be together. Standing in the front of the sanctuary looking out at humans of all ages and sizes sharing pews with dogs, cats, birds, ferrets, guinea pigs, mice and lizards, brings not only a smile to my face but warmth to me heart. It is a glorious day.

As I offer blessings to these nonhuman life companions, I am privileged to hear the stories of how these pets have brought comfort, friendship and healing to their owners. The stories are rich and reflect the words of the Holy One to Job. Make no mistake about it, these animals teach and declare that the hand of God moves in our lives in ways that words cannot express. The compassion of those soulful eyes that watch when we are ill or frightened are filled with wisdom beyond human abilities to console. Truly the image of God has many faces.

If you have a pet, today might be a good day to observe the wisdom they carry. The first observation is that living in the present moment is a good thing. The next might be that to lie down in the sun is healing and to follow the pattern of that sun as it moves connects you to the rhythm of the universe. And then, of course, enjoy your food…..really enjoy it. And follow that with the refreshing taste of a cool drink of water. When you need a nap, take one. It will all work out just fine. And finally, snuggle up close with someone you love.

Enjoy what promises to be a fabulous fall weekend………………….

"When we let go of clinging, then God begins to be." Meister Eckhart

I was rereading some paragraphs from a spiritual memoir this morning and the writer uses this quote to describe some of the lessons she learned while living in a Buddhist monastery in France. Clinging. It is a particularly descriptive word, isn’t it? Can’t you just feel your arms clinch, your knuckles growing white? Clinging. The pulse quickens and heart races at the sound of the word, the implication of the action. The word stirs the fires of panic, of fear, of desperation.

There have been some very dramatic images of clinging on the front pages of newspapers and magazines over these last days. Heads held in hands, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over. Clinging. To what? To a permeable illusion of security? Of safety? Of sanity?

Anyone who has been a parent knows that clinging stilts growth. When a child clings to the security of a parent’s hand or leg, they don’t venture onto the playground that will allow them to grow in new ways. When an older child clings to the security of a parent’s protection, they stifle the rich possibilities the world offers. Likewise when a parent clings to a child they stunt, not only the growth of the child, but their own ability to see themselves as a rich, vibrant person outside the life of the one given into their care. Clinging is rarely, if ever, a good thing.

Meister Eckhart, medieval mystic, goes so far as to say that when we stop clinging, God begins to be. It is with palms open and outstretched that we experience the movement of the Spirit urging us toward wholeness. It is with hearts open and the doors of our mind flung wide that we breathe deeply of the Sacred.

On this beautiful fall day, may we find the courage and the wisdom to open our palms, our minds and our hearts to a world still rich with all that is truly important. May we have moments where clinging ceases and God begins to be.