Ice Climbing 101

Jesus invites the would-be disciples to "Come and see…”

A young man climbs a 1667-foot skyscraper, all 101 floors, without a rope or net.

Onlookers marvel at his remarkable fearlessness, focus, flexibility, and strength.

Agile feet and fingers grip glaciers of glass.

We look away and then back again, strangely compelled.

Come. And See.

Another tragic death at the hands of immigration “officials.”

Reports are these folks are innocent protesters; others say they are obstructing justice.

We look. We look away. 

Icy winter weather slams across the continent.

A comfortable home walls out the cold.

A warm, safe space should not be a luxury. 

Some will succumb to exposure tonight.

A world away, the climber stops to take in the view. 

People appear small from higher up.

What are we looking for, Jesus? 

Following Christ demands focus, flexibility, strength, fearlessness... 

An averted gaze can, I suppose, feel like a survival tactic.

Come. And. See. 

Faith without works is dead. Curiosity without compassion can be deadly. 

Confession is good for the soul.

A lone climber gazes upward at the challenge before him.

"It feels infinite," he says, and begins his ascent.

Every Little Thing's Gonna Be Alright

 Here is a link to the lectionary readings for this week.

Almost nothing that makes any difference can be proved. I can't prove friendship.

If I tried to put friendship to the test, somehow the test itself would queer the friendship. So it is with the goodness of God.

~~Frederick Buechner💛

I love that Luke’s Jesus uses the imagery of a thief breaking in. It’s classic Jesus, flipping the script, scrambling our brains, helping us be more open to the incomprehensible mystery of God.

Luke is a clever one. He commands our attention by stacking together seemingly disparate messages. For example, last week, we met a wealthy individual who felt compelled to build bigger barns to store his abundant produce. Then he finds out he has just one day to live. Isn’t it ironic - don’t you think?

That challenging story was sandwiched between two other mild-by-comparison teachings on faith.

This week, our stack has two main themes: Don’t worry. But be ready. At first glance, they seem oddly unrelated. But maybe not so much.

Remember the classic episode of I Love Lucy in which Ricky, Fred, and Ethel are preparing for when Lucy will leave for the hospital to give birth to the couple’s first child? Committed to staying calm and steady in the moment, Ricky directs a rehearsal with his friends, timing each movement down to the second. Ethel will call the doctor, Fred will get Lucy’s suitcase, and Ricky will make sure his wife and precious cargo get safely into a cab. They complete one more run-through to Ricky’s great satisfaction. Predictably, at that very moment, Lucy breaks in, a pained expression on her face. “Ricky, this is it,” she quietly announces. In that moment, all their planning flies out the window as bodies slam into bodies and chaos ensues. It’s hilarious. Amidst all the drama, the three nearly leave the apartment without Lucy. 

I challenge you to watch this clip with a straight face.

Don’t worry, be ready is the good news pairing we hear from Luke today. Not exactly the Bobby McFerrin hit, Don’t Worry Be Happy. But close. 

More to the point might be Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds. 

You know it, sing it with me: “Don’t worry about a thing, cause every little thing’s gonna be alright.”

In the passage just prior to the Gospel reading, not included in our lectionary, Jesus offers the disciples some examples of God’s faithfulness. Good reasons not to worry; birds that are fed, lilies that are clothed. Perhaps Luke places this passage here to encourage first-century Christians under Roman occupation to keep the faith. 

For the disciples who had dropped everything to travel to Jerusalem with Jesus, for first-century Christians, and certainly for us today, the world gives us ample reason to worry. We can consider lilies all day long and still toss and turn at night.

What’s a Jesus follower to do? Luke’s Jesus lays it out for us. Sell some stuff. Give things away. Rosemary Quill did that, her daughter told me when they brought her back here to St. Mark’s last month. As she knew her physical life was nearing its end, Rosemary gave things away. She simplified. She allowed her family and friends to serve her. Her family seemed moved and genuinely grateful for the graceful way Rosemary prepared for her death. It was the ultimate act of love. And faith. 

We get a lovely definition of faith in the Epistle to the Hebrews this morning. “Faith, the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Although we skip over some of these verses, the author of Hebrews gives examples of faith from the Hebrew scriptures. This can be helpful for us when our own faith waivers – to look back, to remember when God has been faithful to us in our lives. Even as we say the creed, Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor suggests, we can bolster wavering faith by acknowledging the faith our ancestors have handed down to us. They may not have been perfect, but their faith was hard won.

The Genesis passage is rich. Abram broods over his life. “What’s this all about if I leave here with nothing to show for it?”

 God shows him the stars. “Go ahead, try to count them. So many will be your descendants, so vast, your legacy.”

Abram believed in God, and God believed in Abram. God believes in us, too. Yet still we worry.

Some of us have expressed anxiety about where we will gather for worship during our reconstruction. Some of us are worried we might not survive the “wilderness” time away from this building. While this is a legitimate concern, I am not worried. We will need to lean into all those qualities of discipleship we have been exploring for the past several weeks: qualities like flexibility, persistence, courage, mercy, focus, and trust. We got this.

I wonder, do we trust God as much as God seems to trust us?

How do we cultivate faith that prepares us for God to break in – regardless of where we find ourselves? I think we simply need to get out of the way. To let God flow through us. Which doesn’t ordinarily happen when we’re anxious or fearful.

Not only that, protracted fear and worry can be hard on our physical and mental health. Prayer and Meditation can help. As can singing together in community, a walk in nature, a belly laugh, a chat with a friend, or gazing up at the stars contemplating the vastness of creation. (The Perseid Meteor Shower peaks this week!)

 It might also be helpful to regularly remind one another:

It was by faith that this community, including some beloved souls who are no longer with us, envisioned our future children and grandchildren returning here for worship and fellowship, being baptized here, married, and buried. 

By faith, we imagined new spaces for learning, praying, making music, and gathering in exciting new ways. 

By faith, we saw ourselves serving people of all ages, colors, and backgrounds. We imagined an active, growing, flourishing community. And here we are on the cusp of exciting change…

Despite our faith, the pairing of the Genesis story with Luke’s pericope seems to present a bit of a rub. A warning “breaks in” when I encounter the word slave. It’s jarring, right? That word should command our attention. It should, especially in light of the atrocity of so many bodies trafficked in this country and elsewhere. In the ancient world, slaves would keep watch for potential intruders. In Genesis, Abram is concerned that a slave in his household will inherit his estate. 

If we consider Abram’s starry legacy, this gets interesting. Abram believes God’s promise of descendants, as many as the stars, and yet, spoiler alert, Abram doesn’t wait for God. Abram takes matters into his own hands, and his first son is born to a slave. (Isn’t that ironic.) 

Sadly, alongside Abram’s impressive paternity, his legacy would also include abuse of power and the heinous institution of slavery. 

 But here’s the brilliant, subversive thing about the Gospel: Jesus completely flips things, making slaves of those of us who do wait for God to fulfill God’s promises. Slaves with no apparent worldly power – only power that comes from God.  

Which appeals to you more?

In light of this and last week’s Gospel (the foolish rich guy), it might seem worrisome that we are preparing to tear down – to build something bigger. But I’m not worried. I think we’re clear about where our treasure lies and how much is expected of us. Those to whom much is given, much is to be expected.

“Little flock,” you, who are so generous, so rich toward God, you to whom much has been entrusted, you who wisely discern the responsibility before you…If you weren’t just a little bit worried, I’d be worried. 

Still, try your best not to worry. Keep calm and carry on. But do keep your lamps lit, because we never know when God will break in. 

Amen.

Here’s a link to my Spotify playlist for this sermon.

 

Faith, Fear, and Tarzan the Motorcycle Man

A Sermon for Lent 2, Year C. 
Find the readings here.

When the Coronavirus pandemic struck five years ago this month, we had no idea what to expect, least of all how we might be forced to adapt and change because of it. Quite naturally, fear ensued. We’re still processing it. This week I came across a New York Times article about how Covid changed the lives of 29 people. Here are just a few examples:

In response to the uncertainty of the future and the protracted fear of contracting Covid, 72-year-old Donna Sintic from Santa Monica, California gave up trying to control things that were out of her control. She found herself becoming more grateful. 

Sarah Kelly, 35, from Winston Salem, North Carolina, who was finishing graduate school when Covid hit, ran out of her savings, moved back to her hometown and lives a much simpler life with the unanticipated joy of a five-month-old baby girl. 

Miguel Guzman, 56 from San Antonio, nearly died after contracting Covid. He is grateful to be alive and play his mariachi music. He says when he was facing his own death, he was most concerned about his family and how they would manage without him. 

A funeral director, Shawn’te Harvell, 56, from Elizabeth, NJ, was appalled by the way funerals changed during the pandemic. Sometimes it would be just the funeral home director and the deceased at the cemetery with families joining on Facetime. Shawn’te says Covid caused him to reevaluate the way he approaches funerals. 

A 22-year-old from Rosemont, Minnesota, Charles Huang, has never had Covid. He is still fearful in public and chooses to mask. Charles says the isolation is ongoing and painful.[1]

The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom then shall I fear, writes the psalmist.

Umm…let’s see, where to begin: reckless drivers, reckless politicians, doctors with scary diagnoses, drug dealers, arms dealers, bullies…friends who talk you into paragliding.

I am afraid of heights. On our recent vacation, we were on a narrow, windy unpaved road leading down, down, down, through the jungle to see one of those magnificent Costa Rican waterfalls when a motorcycle sped past us. At the bottom, the waterfall was beautiful. So was the young man disrobing down to his underwear and heading into the water. When he realized he had company, underwear motorcycle guy was totally unfazed. We made small talk as he emerged from the water, tugged on jeans, tee shirt and helmet, and revved up his bike. As he zoomed off, my husband Rob said, “There goes Tarzan.” The six of us, old college friends, had a good laugh. 

“Do not be afraid. I am your shield. Your reward shall be great,” God assured Abram when his faith appeared to waver. 

A couple of days later, I breathed through my fear of heights and accepted the challenge to go paragliding. My reward? My personal paragliding tour guide turned out to be Tarzan, the underwear-motorcycle guy. And he was just as charming and unruffled at 1500 feet as he was coming up and out of the water. Clearly, it’s all about faith.

The writer of Hebrews defines faith as the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Heb 11:1). Faith is more of a verb than a noun, a process rather than a possession, writes Frederick Buechner. While some suggest doubt is the opposite of faith, Paul Tillich considers doubt to be essential.[2]

Abram, later renamed Abraham, had faith—the quintessential patriarch also doubted. A lot. Like the dreaded circle of death on our computer screens, Abraham’s faith signal would be strong, then flicker, and then, return again as he struggled over his identity, his paternity, and even his masculinity.[3] Throughout his exceptionally long life, in his quest for a reliable, uninterrupted connection with God, Abraham offers consolation for our own often awkward, complicated faith journeys. God works through Abraham to propagate and populate and prove that God always makes good on God’s promises. But knowing when to wait and when to act can be tricky.

At age 86, in one example of flickering faith, Abraham and his wife Sarah decide to take matters into their own hands and start their family by forcing their servant Hagar to be their surrogate. Perhaps Father Abraham had developed a case of temporary amnesia, forgetting God’s promised vision, forgetting his own vision of light, still burning strong in the middle of his “deep terrifying darkness.”

Jesus, on the other hand, demonstrates for us how to stay the course even when things seem darkest. Last Sunday, Jesus was in the wilderness preparing for his ministry, this week Luke’s Gospel takes us to Jesus’ final weeks on the job. Despite having received his termination letter, Jesus is finishing up strong with no time for that “fox” Herod. His sights are set on Jerusalem, where prophets go to die. Fun fact: Jerusalem is mentioned 800 times in the Bible. Luke mentions it 23 times, more than any of the other three Gospels. Fellow etymology nerds might appreciate the meaning behind the name: Jerusalem means to inherit shalom, peace or wholeness.[4]

Jerusalem is in Jesus’ future. And he seems unafraid. Perhaps because he knows fear distracts us from our purpose. That fear prevents us from exercising our faith muscles, keeping us stuck in unhealthy patterns and habits. Perhaps because Jesus is fully awake to the light within; that perfect love that casts out all fear (1 John 4:18). 

Love that emboldens us to stand up for justice.[5]

Love that keeps us centered and present. 

Love that embraces vulnerability. 

Love that makes God’s presence more palpable – some call this union or oneness, the peace that passes all understanding… This love can carry us through just about anything.

There was a prayer jar in the meditation room of the hospital where I completed my clinical pastoral education last year. Each day as my chaplain colleagues and I pulled out the small scraps of paper on which people scribbled their darkest worries and fears, we were reminded of a strange paradox: It takes so much courage, it’s really the bravest among us, who can fully accept our total dependence on God. 

I encourage you to write down your worries and fears on that small orange sheet of paper you were given. Intentionally let go of it as you place it in the collection plate. Breathe through any doubts. As the psalmist writes, 

Be strong and God will comfort your heart. 

My friends, wholeness comes through both strength and vulnerability. A healthy balance of masculine and feminine… 14^th Century anchoress, two-time pandemic survivor and theologian, Julian of Norwich, shared her vision of God: “As truly as God is our Father, God is our Mother.”[6]

The Covid-19 pandemic may have changed us. And most assuredly the world will go on changing. And yet God’s love burns strong, in the middle of our darkest fears. Like a mother hen, God gathers us for such a time as this, enfolding us in Her love, even as He emboldens us for service to the world. May it be so.

Amen.

---

[1] Jenna Russell and Christina Morales, “How Covid Changed the Lives of These 29 Americans,” The New York Times, March 11, 2025, sec. U.S., https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2025/03/10/us/covid-19-changed-people.html.

[2]   Buechner, 4.

[3]   Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words, New York, (Harper Collins, 2004), 109.

[4] “Jerusalem Etymology Online, Origin and Meaning,” accessed March 8, 2025, https://etymologyworld.com/item/jerusalem.

[5] “Pauli Murray Center Denounces Removal of the Priest’s Biography from National Park Service Website,” Episcopal News Service (blog), March 10, 2025, https://episcopalnewsservice.org/2025/03/10/pauli-murray-center-denounces-removal-of-the-priests-biography-from-national-park-service-website/.

[6] “Julian the Theologian,” The Christian Century, accessed March 14, 2025, https://www.christiancentury.org/article/features/julian-theologian.

How Can We Keep From Singing?

Back when my daughter Meghan was two and first diagnosed with congenital heart disease, our kind pediatrician suggested he introduce our family to another family who had, not one, but two children with a similar prognosis. At the time, I was not ready to look at the truth of what was in front of us. I could barely handle the news of our daughter's diagnosis. How could I possibly hear about another family with what was surely twice the anxiety and grief? It was overwhelming and scary and so, instead of reaching out, I resisted, avoiding what could have been an invaluable relationship. Knowing these other kids might have offered comfort and friendship for my daughter. I might have been inspired by this other family. I might have grown. I never did meet that family but I often think about them, even so many years after Meghan's death. 

I am a different person now. I think I would choose differently, or I hope I would. In this time when we are socially distanced and socially challenged to evolve, I wonder what would happen if we were collectively able to really see the difficult truths that are before us. If so, maybe we would be inspired. Maybe we would grow.

Pandemic and pandemonium are similar words. Ever thought of that? I know. Never really had to before. I'm no expert, but a quick search shows that in there somewhere is the root word "da" which means to divide. 

In these perilous times so many things are rising up to conscious level as we are spending more time on our screens. Just for fun, let's say our screens represent our consciousness, individual and collective. If so, we are seeing some disturbing images coming up to the surface. 

To be healthy and whole, collectively and individually, we must acknowledge the deeper, darker aspects of our nature, and I would even gently, and ever so sweetly suggest that we might invite them in for a nice cup of tea. Anger  and fear are natural human responses to threat. But eventually we need to see the truth if we want to grow as individuals and as a species.

Enough words?

But that shadow has been serving you!
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.
You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.

 ~~Rumi

I would like to propose that as we begin to open up while the virus is still making contact with human bodies that vary in their immune response, personally and collectively we are being pushed to the edge of our comfort zones. This stress is manifesting in ways that are exposing truths, both personally and collectively.

As a culture, we see injustice. As individuals we witness bad behavior.

As a culture we see expressions of anger. As individuals we experience mounting rage.

As a culture we see death. As individuals we know grief.

As a culture we see fear. As individuals we feel profoundly uncertain, anxious and frustrated.

Yesterday, my daughter called me crying, grief-stricken, because she could not imagine her best friend, a lovely black man, living with racism such that we are seeing on our screens.

This morning my son expressed to me his frustration at having to make hard decisions and keep customers and employees safe at his place of business.

My parents are safe in their home, but so very fearful, as they watch large numbers of people dismissing social distancing guidelines. 

I am seeing the collective pain body as reflected on my screen. I am also seeing the individual pain body in my everyday world.

No doubt, you are as well. 

I am white (in this incarnation anyway) and so my journey has been easier than it has for some of my black friends. I need to see that. I need to examine why this is so. I need to face the evil that has been buried for generations. It's time the truth surfaced. Not easy during a pandemic, but why not? Google some black history. I implore you.

It’s hard to witness our lower nature. It’s painful. We can see how powerless we can be when up against it. 

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.               

 ~~Psalm 139

What have we learned from the brilliant 12 steppers in our midst? We are powerless, mostly, against this lower nature. We must repent and ask forgveness. Also, we need each another. We need a higher power. There are a few more, but this gets us started.

We also need a collective breath, taken by each of us, preferably in unison.

We need collective prayer. 

As a culture, together, we are a force. 

We are strongest together. 

Let’s breathe together. Let’s pray together.

Three deep inhales and complete exhales can go a long way.

What I know from my own personal devastating grief is that praying together and for one another does more good than we can begin to fathom. When we finally are bought to our knees, that’s when transformation and rebirth are right on the horizon. Prayer doesn’t have to be perfect, just honest, real, sincere.

Perhaps something like this…

Loving, infinite presence, we are witnessing so much death, injustice, chaos, and confusion. This has happened before in our history but, for some reason, it feels more difficult than ever. It feels like we are reaching our breaking point. Show us the truth. Allow us to see what is really behind the anger. Show us how to soften towards one another and, more importantly to your will; that which is ultimately in our collective best interest. We are desperate. We are good people trying our best to make our world a place of happiness, goodness, peace, fairness, beauty and love. Help us now. Help each of us now. Help all of us. And help us to notice when you show up in even the smallest of ways. Inspire us to be better, to do better, to love better. Oh, and thank you. Amen.

We don't have to be Carl Jung to see what is happening. Deep down we really do know. 

We know collectively. We know individually. We’re just too stressed and confused to access that awareness.

We need to look honestly and compassionately at what is on our screen. We need to breathe. We need to pray. 

We need to be united.

A Blessing for these Times

As a culture we are wearing masks, as individuals may we gaze deeply into the eyes in front of us in search of the infinite soul residing there. 

As a culture we have seen the earth get cleaner, may we be better stewards of our planet as we move forward.

As a culture, we have found that we can work from home, eliminating the need to spend precious hours commuting, may we be more protective of the time we have.

As a culture we have learned to reach out in creative ways and stay in touch when physical presence is not possible. May we continue to create new ways to connect in love and in the best interest of our grieving global family. 

As culture we are seeing science and technology working to develop solutions. May each of us use our unique gifts to contribute in our own way to the cause of a more equitable, loving and whole humanity. 

As a culture, we have witnessed heroic people in service to others; from healthcare workers to grocery store employees to trash collectors and many others. May we show ample gratitude and continue to express gratitude to one another as this pandemic fades from memory.

We must do better work and not stop until racism is eliminated. That's a non-negotiable.
There is still so much good in our world. Like a blip on a radar screen, Cover-19 will one day be but a distant memory. Racism is a virus that also must be wiped out completely. In the past, great discoveries and human advancements have come out of such challenges. We were made for this, we crazy, imperfect, stubborn, resilient human beings.  

Imagine the whole of humanity on one giant Zoom screen; colorful, different, smiling, concerned, loving faces. There we are, right there united, all on the same screen. Can you see it? Can you hear it?

How can we keep from singing? We cannot. And you can't stop forward momentum...

Love and Peace to you!

Connie Bowman is an actress, podcast host, yoga teacher, and author of several books, including There's an Elephant in My Bathtub, Super Socks and Back to Happy. Follow her on Instagram @conniebowmanactressauthoryogi

or visit www.conniebowman.com
Join her for yoga Tuesday evenings here.

The Osprey Nest

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?”

        
--John 14: 1-2

The old osprey nest I had been watching for the past few weeks on my morning walks with Sophie finally had some activity.

Mama (I am assuming) sat high atop the tallest branch of the craggy, barren tree guarding her home while papa swooped low to fetch pine needles, sticks and leaves, depositing them neatly into the nest with agile back claws.

I was happy to see the new tenants taking residence and making the home their own. It’s good to see some normalcy, signs of life as usual, these days. It's also important to create home that feels sacred, nurtures the soul, and invites you to settle in and get comfy. My husband and I had been nesting ourselves of late, having closed on a new home by the shore in January. Our decorating was coming along nicely when Covid-19 rudely interrupted us all. Our sweet new retirement dream home was where we would now shelter in place.

Walking on our now familiar trail, Sophie stopped just ahead of me to survey the area. She has her favorite spots to crouch and pee, some ways off the trail like a proper lady. I like to pause so as not to rush her and, wanting to give her privacy, I glanced away. In the distance I spotted our osprey friend soaring high overhead, this time with a long ribbon-like something or other trailing behind him like a kite tail fluttering in the breeze. It was a strange sight to see and I watched trying to discern what he had picked up and whether it would be a welcome addition to the nest when offered to his beloved.

He swooped close to the nest and then circled back toward me. Just then he surprised me by dropping his precarious cargo right onto the bush next to me. It landed like perfectly placed garland on a Christmas tree. 

I wondered if mother, still perched regally atop her branch, had vetoed her mate’s decorating suggestion or if he had made this last minute decision of his own accord. Either way, my osprey friend had bestowed upon me a sacred gift and I am not one to be ungrateful. 

I retrieved the rejected material and determined it to be construction debris from a nearby house now under construction (no, it wasn't toilet paper!). I had been open to receive just about anything gifted to me from “on high” these last few weeks, when we have seemed so bereft of good news. I was desperate for a sign of any kind. This would do just fine.

A divine order patterns all of creation,

from the timeless ocean to the fleeting dew.

Keep your attention on wisdom,

and do not allow yourself to be distracted.

Watch the patterns of creation.

This will enliven your soul and bring you grace and tranquility. 

-- Excerpts from Proverbs: The Wisdom of Solomon, Chapter 3, translated by Rabbi Rami Shapiro

My thoughts had been darker these past few days as we head into the possible peak of this devastating virus that is spreading exponentially leaving thousands dead and so many others fearing we are next. But this adorable osprey couple, this sweet once threatened species, reminded me that we are resilient, that seasons change and new life does arrive, despite and even sometimes, because of hardship. They showed me that working together we can rebuild, and that there’s plenty to go around, so why not share. 

They also reminded me to be grateful for my practical, hardworking husband who, much like the osprey dad, has a deeply ingrained, inspiring work ethic. His decorating sense, however; how shall we say this delicately, osprey mama? With all due respect, all decorating decisions should plainly be left up to me.

Walking home with Sophie I stopped by the dumpster and with a deep sigh of gratitude, reluctantly deposited the lovely gift. No sense holding onto things so tightly anymore.  

Peace.

Fenwick Island, DE

4/2/20

Connie Bowman is an actress, yoga teacher, host of the podcast Happy Healthy You! and author of Back to Happy and children's picture books about overcoming fear, kindness and acceptance. For more about her visit www.conniebowman.com.

Enjoy Reclaiming Joy on Insight Timer: Reclaiming Joy

A couple of video updates on our couple:

Osprey Update 5/2/20:

We had 50-60 mph winds in the storm the other night and the Osprey nest blew from the tree. Mother still sits on the branch next to where her eggs had been incubating. Dad is in another tree not far from her. I watched for a while and they both left to circle the area and landed back home.
This prayer showed up today:

Prayer for People Facing Great Uncertainty
Adapted from the New Zealand Prayer Book

God of the present moment, God who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart; bring hope and courage to all who wait or work in uncertainty.
Bring hope that you will make us all able to deal with whatever lies ahead.
Bring us courage to endure what cannot be avoided, for your will is health and wholeness; you are our God,
and we need you
now and always. Amen.

Osprey Update 5/5/20: 

What I think may be the final one but one never knows…

I had been feeling sad over the loss of our osprey couple’s nest in the recent wind storm.

After watching them for a few weeks, they seemed to be a solid couple, determined to make a home in the once abandoned nest high up in the twisted old tree by the bay. I observed with great curiosity as they added debris; plastic and paper, twigs and practically anything they could find to put their stamp on their nest. 

My husband and I did the research. Ospreys, once a threatened species due to pesticides and other man-made threats, were now thriving in the Chesapeake Bay after years of measures taken to eliminate unhealthy practices. Both male and female build the nest together. They take residence and lay their eggs, typically two to three, in the Spring in whatever nest is available. The mother is usually larger than the father, perhaps noticeably when she is carrying her soon- to-be offspring. According to our research, they can lay eggs anytime from mid April to late May.

I assumed they had laid their eggs and were happily awaiting the birth of their babies.

It appears I was wrong!

After their nest blew down I watched for a few days as mom and dad seemed to grieve their great loss atop their barren perch. Once I spotted the male circling the tree with twigs in his back talons looking for a place in the tree to drop his building materials. They seemed to want to rebuild in place, only higher up.

After a few days I noticed that the couple had not been around. This morning on a walk by their still empty tree, the tide receded, I crossed the land where I normally would not be able and headed toward the tree. There on the ground beneath it I found what had once been our sweet couple’s mansion in the sky. I knew it was huge but laying in a shambles on the ground I could see it had been enormous. They had collected a myriad of items from colored strips of paper, a piece of a plastic carton and wrappers of all sorts and likely many pounds of twigs once intricately woven together to form their impressive but tenuous structure.

It took me a while to sift through the remains, but I am happy to report that there were no traces of eggs or feathers or anything that would lead me to believe that her babies had been born and were either abducted or killed in the fall. Such good news!

Our couple has moved on. Yesterday I thought I heard their now familiar cry, but I am not sure. I miss them but I certainly wish them well in their new home and pray their family thrives and their babies grow healthy and strong and eventually fly away to fulfill their own destinies. 

And then our couple can retire by the beach and happily enjoy their golden years in the sunshine. #ospreyupdate

The Real Work 

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

~~Wendall Berry