"The grace of the love of the skies be thine,
The grace of the love of the stars be thine,
The grace of the love of the moon be thine,
The grace of the love of the sun be thine."
~Carmina Gadelica

Over the last couple of days I have been rereading J. Philip Newell's lovely little book, Listening to the Heartbeat of God. This book uses many prayers from the early Celts which have been collected in a book called Carmina Gadelica which simply means 'songs and poems of the Gaels'. It is a collection of the unceasing prayers of people of the Scottish Hebrides,those tied closely to the earth, who understood the Holy's movement in their lives.This was true in the day to day tasks of laying a fire that would warm their home and cook their food, in the birth and death of their animals, family and neighbors. The prayers reflect that they saw no part of their life in which God was not active. They are beautiful, sweet,sometimes simple prayers passed down orally to generation after generation until they were finally collected by Alexander Carmichael in the late 19th century.

I thought yesterday about how far we have moved from this kind of deep understanding of our connection with Creator and creation. I wonder how many people say a prayer as they turn the gas on to warm the teapot that will create the hot water for their morning cup. I know I certainly don't. With a turn of the knob I watch fire flare forth and turn toward the next thing to be done never giving a single thought to gift of this amazing source of warmth. I wonder how many people took the tiny plants that have been planted in gardens over the last several days,held them gently, saying a prayer for the wonder of seed that sprouts into food to nourish our bodies. How many of us pass by fields full of dairy cows and raise our hands in blessing for the milk that builds our bones and brings us the pleasure of ice cream on a warm summer's day? So many things to be thankful over……

There is a kind of envy that wells up in me when I think of these early faithful giving thanks for the ways they were connected to their God. And yet nothing except intention and a perception of busy-ness keeps me from following their lead. Yesterday I told a coworker that it seemed nearly a sin to have left my backyard to go any place else. The bold purple irises were so splendid. The columbine, lavender and dainty, had just bloomed. The bright red gerbera daisies were lifting their faces toward the sunlight. I could have spent the whole day moving from plant to plant enveloped in the awe of it. But somehow duty called and I answered.

And if the beauty and wonder of these earth bound ones weren't enough, what about that moon last night? The deep blue night of sky was hung with a yellow moon so bright it must have kept the most sensitive awake with its brilliance. As I crossed the bridge over the Mississippi coming home from a late night meeting, I saw it hanging like a huge dinner plate in the sky waiting to be feasted upon. The ancient Celtic cells in my body collected into a prayer with no words, only deep breath,and an even deeper connection to something I can only describe as Sacred.

Perhaps it is romantic to think that, in the 21st century, we might be as prayerful as those in earlier times. Perhaps it is not possible to connect our daily actions with the Holy as deeply as they did. But I do believe that living with a sense of humility about our place in the family of things cannot be a bad thing. The beauty of the iris, the majesty of last night's moon, was something I had no hand in creating. And yet it was a gift to me from a Source bigger than I can imagine. And for that I offer my praise and my gratitude. Amen