March 2008
 

A Season of Promises                                                                  by Kate Miller Carl

     In this season of unrelenting cold and frozen brooks, (not to mention pipes) it requires a willing suspension of disbelief to imagine those limp August days, to try to remember when it was 95 degrees for a week at a time and we would have given our eye teeth for a few hours just like today.  In the meantime we have nursery and seed catalogs to carry us through, full of promises and overblown blossoms.  Considering those lush "wishbooks" it certainly requires another willing suspension of disbelief to credit those odd lumpy brown seeds with the glory they might achieve.  They certainly don't appear to have much potential; even the seed of the mighty sunflower looks comically brittle, and the seed of the burly brussels sprout doesn't exactly inspire confidence.  And marigolds are downright ridiculous, with their little tuft of silly bristles on top...And yet they all have a grand promise coiled up, hidden within that shell, waiting only the congenial conditions of warmth and damp soil.  The cycle of days will roll as we know it always has, and the dormant buds and bulbs will emerge again to cheer us on.    
     But this cold and quiet time of year is necessary (though not particularly comfortable right now), a time when we have to apuse, or at least slow down to reflect and evaluate.  It's not just the formality of dealing with January first, and our feeble resolutions to improve, but the season itself, with brief days and long dark nights.  We savor the gradual lengthening of the light, like a release from bondage, a time when we have to keep our own minds company, to consider what we are about.

     For every thing there is a season, indeed, even for the things we dread, or delay.  They are still out there, ready for us to tackle when we have focused our energy to take that next step.  And so many things, once we really begin to work on then, are not so insurmountable as they appeared.  Like cleaning a house, we have to start in a corner to make a beginning, bit by bit we can chip away at the iceberg.

     For we are not alone, though we may need reminding.  We participate in a greater energy and with just a little good cheer and encouragement, with a kind hug or spoken word we can support each other.  Like a forgotten plant on the windowsill we can often be restored by the simple act of kindness.  We can and need to support each other, but being on the receiving end is sometimes more difficult than giving; we have to allow an emotional access it may be hard to do.  Sometimes it fees as we are admitting weakness to let somebody else even offer to lend a hand with our burdensome baggages, but if we can allow ourselves that act, we are all strengthened, the giver who has learned true kindness, and the receiver, who understands generosity and grace.

     One of the choir's favorite composer and arranger, Natalie Sleeth, has set a huge variety of scripture to music (so when you join the choir you too can experience this...).  "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, ask and it shall be given unto you."...And where do we seek this, the kingdom of God?  Right here where we are, here and in our circle of friends, and in the faces of strangers.  We all and each have the capacity to let our strengths be shared, for we each have different capabilities.  In sharing our strengths, we balance our weaknesses.

     Listening to the text of the scripture, remember this is set in the active tense, not passive.  We must seek actively, not sit like a bump on a log and wait for something to happen.  A time for all things, indeed.  To laugh, to cry, to embrace, to refrain from embracing.  The physical and emotional opposites balance in the world.  A time to rush, a time to rest, a time to plant and a time to harvest. 

     And all in its good time, we seek out best selves in the kingdom of God.

                                                                                     Kate Miller Carl