Every day, every moment,
you place your hand of blessing
upon the brow of creation.
In your touch, in your words,
everything flowers,
everything remembers
the deep, perfect loveliness within.
The deep, perfect loveliness of you.
~Sam Hamilton Poore

As I was doing my walking meditation through the St. Paul Farmer’s Market on Saturday, a single line from an old hymn flitted through my mind. “I scarce can take it in” sang through my psyche as if it was a thought I had chosen, one I’d meant to think. This was not the case. When I say, ‘walking meditation’, it is because I do have a certain intention to my weekly visits to these three rows of pavement which hold the gifts of earth and toil. My pattern is to walk slowly through each long row, taking an inventory of what is available this week, what has come into season, as I watch the rhythm of seed to harvest unfold before my eyes. I notice the cheerful, always smiling woman who sells previously used quilts and children’s clothing, the only one of her kind at this market. Her name is Joy, an apt and perfect call on the part of her parents for she seems to stand and spread kindness, laughter and a sense of holding the world gently to every passerby.

Down the long aisle, the beautiful faces of some of our largest immigrant population, the Hmong, look out from behind tables overflowing with colorful produce. This week was tomato heaven. The red fruits were piled high on tables, in boxes and baskets, all begging to go home with a lucky buyer to be eaten now or saved for winter soups and stews. The sea of red was interrupted by peppers, green, yellow, red, all shined up and sparkling in the morning sun. Add to this colorful array, the sweet corn peeking from the husks and the melons, peach-colored and juicy, and it was no wonder ‘I scarce can take it in’ was floating through the fog of my morning mind.

Several times I simply needed to stop in my tracks, allow the color and the fullness of life to wash over me. And I still had not purchased one thing! I noticed the change in the bouquets of flowers offered by several stands. The pastels of spring and early summer had been replaced by the brilliant reds, oranges and purples of these waning days. Their impassioned colors spoke of all the life and goodness a season can produce while reminding us of their fleeting wonder.

After making my purchases, I headed home with the phrase still dancing through my mind. ‘I scarce can take it in.’ Throughout the morning I became aware of the gift of this piece of poetry. In the ways in which most of us live, in the pace with which we move from task to task, from often mindless act to mindless act, we often forget to ‘take in’ the wonder around us. And yet it is always there, offering its invitation. This Creation of which we are all a part offers beauty and an intricate weaving of miracle that is often lost in our rush to whatever is next, whatever seems to be pushing its urgency, often false, upon us.

On Saturday, someplace among stacks of purple eggplants and the plethora of tomatoes, the Spirit’s voice spoke to wake me up. “Take it in!” I am grateful for the reminder, for the ear-worm of a song snippet that caused me to be aware of, not only the gifts of farm and farmer, but which also pushed me to try with all my might to take in all the miracle that comes my way every day.

I scarce can take it in. But we all have a lifetime to try.