Table Talk #2

    

 This is an open forum. Please share with us how gardens sow seeds in your soul.  You may wish to share a photo, a favorite garden quote, or a garden memory.                                             

Photo credit:  http://plantspages.com/gardenimgpages/gardenimage15.htm

Sowing Seeds in the Soul

I have loved this poem ever since I was a child.  The one I remember has a few different words, but I recall it each spring when I venture out into my own garden to begin cleanup.  It was also this poem that sang in my head (or was it my heart?) when I decided to go to the Chicago Botanic Gardens on Tuesday.  The moment I stepped upon the first path, I felt that sense of calm that only a venture through a garden brings.  Something about Tuesday's calm was different however.  I had no thoughts, no plans, no sense of time; I was relaxed and completely present to the moment.  I felt a bit odd, though, because normally I would be thinking about the beauty of God's handiwork in the feast of the senses I was experiencing, yet I just had no thoughts....  I walked wherever my feet decided to go, stopped whenever my camera aimed at textures, colors, patterns, and 'nature moments'.  Passing the gardeners at their labor, I even felt like I was planting and cultivating with them in preparation for the garden wishes that summer grants.  When I viewed my photographs the next day, I recognized how each little moment of my garden stroll had been a seed for the spiritual nourishment of my soul, filling it with peace and a love that cannot adequately be put into words (because words aren't necessary).  It had been the Holy Spirit's way of teaching me about contemplative prayer; an expression of prayer I admire in the saints and wondered how to practice.  In the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC 2709)  St. Teresa is quoted as saying:  'Contemplative prayer in my opinion is nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with him who we know loves us.'  That is what Tuesday felt like - that close sharing and peaceful love - only now I realize which 'friend' I was sharing with.  In being completely present to the moments of the garden, I experienced what it is like to be completely present to God.  I didn't have to feel odd not thinking about God; I was already walking with Him.      

Image credit:
(http://www.slatelady.com/photogallery/images/garden_poem_slate.JPG)

The Good Taste of God's Grace

                   

Yesterday was an unexpected revelation of 'gifts' for me.  First of all, I was excited to be substituting again at the Catholic high school I have grown very fond of.  Their spiritual theme for the year had focused on sharing stories.  Coincidentally (or as a former graduate school classmate of mine once told me:  'God working in disguise'), I was sharing the 'ending' of their story in the celebration of the last school Mass of the year just as I had shared the 'beginning' of their story at the first one.  But it was more than that.  Back in September the teacher I accompanied to Mass was about to bring new life into the world and I would be substituting for her during her leave.  Yesterday's Mass was dedicated to a teacher who had just passed away the night before.  Alpha and Omega - a beginning of a journey on earth and an ending to an earthly pilgrimage celebrated in one school year through a breaking of the bread together.  Yet it was still more than that.  While I didn't know the deceased teacher very well, I realized that the brief encounters I did have with her at lunch or in the hall had a profound effect on me.  If I had never known that she was battling cancer I probably wouldn't have guessed, such was her cheerful demeanor.  I admired her healthy lunches that she patiently ate even though she might have been feeling ill.  I admired her flamboyant and colorful clothing that drew attention to her and not to her thinning body.  I cherished our brief encounters of conversation in the hallway during passing periods; compliments on one another's clothing or a supportive comment about teaching children.  Most of all, I admired her courage in continuing to pursue a beloved profession even in the wake of profound suffering.  Her motivating force?  A deep faith in God and a deep love for the students in her care. This love was evident in the grief of both the students and the staff.  How might I bring comfort should the need arise?  What could I say after such a brief acquaintance?  So I thought, "If one could take one thing from that teacher and keep it one's heart to honor her memory, what would it be?  How would she like for us to 'know Him' through her?"  What I didn't anticipate was that my own response would bring me comfort; it was that sacred bite of food, a moment of grace - Kay's gift of courage.  
(Please see my next post, 'A Letter to Kay' for my tribute to her.)

Letter to Kay

                                                    


Dear Kay,

Although I didn't know you very well, I wanted to say 'thank you' for the gift you gave me.  You see, I had a rather rough teaching experience a few years ago and although I made it through that year as graciously as possible, I seemed to be fearful that I 'lost' the teacher I used to be.  After hearing of the suffering you went through and seeing your cheerful endurance as you pursued the career you loved, I now realize that I never really lost anything.  Rather, I just didn't recognize where I was on my path and your gift of courage has shown me that when we do what we love, our suffering (in whatever form it takes) needn't feel insurmountable.  I recognize that your courage came from your unwavering faith in God which was shown through every bit of small talk we ever had.  So I thank you, Kay, for that something of yourself that you left with me; for whenever I may hear your name or happen to think of you in the future, I will recall that COURAGE means I can be whoever God needs me to be.  May you rest peacefully in the arms of the One whom you so dearly loved and modeled to your students and faculty family.