Monday Morning Musing

 This week in Cromwell, a long-time member brought fresh flowers from her garden to church. They were beautiful flowers and included one red dahlia. Of course, to me, this single dahlia brought great joy to my heart because last spring I had given her several dahlia bulbs. Let me explain! Many years ago as a small boy, I remember visiting my grandparents' home in Brainerd. They had a beautiful garden, and my grandfather grew beautiful red dahlias. When my dad tended his own garden, his father gave him some red dahlia bulbs. For many years, he planted several rows of red dahlia in the clay soil at the family home near Ely that without fail, grew tall with deep red blooms. When I grew up, and started having gardens of my own, my father gave me red dahlias for my garden so I too had beautiful red dahlias. Furthermore, since each fall you end up with more bulbs than you planted in the spring, just like my father and his father before him, I gave away bulbs to many friends as gifts. This spring when I went down into the basement to collect the bulbs that I had carefully stored in brown paper bags, I realized all of the bulbs had turned to dust. I mentioned this to a friend to whom I had given bulbs several years ago, and he now provided me with bulbs, more than I could possibly use. 

So after planting some at my home and also in the United Methodist Community Garden in Moose Lake, I passed on what I had left to a long-time member of the Cromwell church who shared their first bloom with the church on Saturday. This morning as the sun rose, donning my red plaid bathrobe, I went to put out the trash. As I walked by the dahlias on my deck I noticed a red bloom beginning to open up.

As I looked at the bloom, I felt much like Jacob in the Old Testament when he said, "Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it." Afterall, even though the bulbs I had stored in my basement had turned to dust, those that I had shared with others remained full of life. When a friend gave some back to me, they not only renewed my garden, but in their abundance, brought new life to other gardens. As I look out at my garden this morning, I am thinking of something else Jacob said, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." Even though it is important and wonderful to have church buildings so we can gather as a community to praise God, it is also important to realize that God is present everywhere, in our gardens, forest, lakes, wild places, and in the bloom of a red dahlia.

My prayer for us this week is that we each find time to witness the presence of God in the world. In this way, much like Jacob, we will also say, "Surely the presence of the Lord is in the place."  However, unlike Jacob, we will know God's presence, and because of that awareness, treat all of creation with the same love and care that God bestows on us.

 A week ago, some youth and several older folks from Hill City UMC traveled to Ely to go into the BWCA for a one-day canoe trip. Of course, some had experience canoeing, while many others had none or very little. It was fun watching folks learn how to carry the canoes over their shoulders when portaging, making sure they had them balanced for maximum efficiency when walking on the trail over rocks, down rustic steps, and through sphagnum moss. Once we put the canoes into the water, our guide demonstrated how to get into the canoe. What was critical was learning how to help others get into the canoe by sitting on the bow with a paddle in hand to keep it steady while those entering centered themselves so as not to tip the canoe. As we left shore, it was beautiful to watch these five canoes glide across the water, each canoe finding their own rhythm within the beauty of the lake. To be sure, I was impressed with how all of the paddlers eased into this new experience, working together with the others in their canoe to keep from tipping and staying on course. Later in the week, I had plans to go with a friend to canoe on a small lake to look at water lilies. But as he went to the side of the barn to get the canoe from its rack, he noticed a nest of baby robins had found refuge in the upside down canoe. At his suggestion, we scheduled our outing on the lake for another day so the robins could continue to enjoy the comforts of the canoe. 

There is much we can learn from the canoe that may also help us on  our journey with Christ. Afterall, just as it is important to learn how to carry our canoe, we also must learn how to journey with Jesus Christ when he carried his cross. Just as when in a canoe it is important to keep ourselves centered so as not to tip the canoe, we must also keep Christ at the center of our lives to help us not kareen too far in one direction if we want to keep our lives from being turned upside down. Furthermore, just as canoeing is a team effort, our journey with Christ will oftentimes require the help and guidance of other sojourners when times get hard or we struggle to keep our faith. Finally, just as canoes canserve other unexpected roles, such as providing refuge for a nest of robins, we too may be called upon by Christ to serve others and our community in unexpected ways, sometimes letting go of things we had planned in order to answer this call. 

My prayer for this week is that in our journey with Christ we consider what we might learn from the humble, yet beautiful canoe. And, as we paddle our way through life, we should also take time to enjoy the beauty of the world just like you see the beauty of the northwoods when gliding across the water. 

 Everyday for the last couple of weeks, as I look out my window from the dining room table, I notice a baby rabbit nibbling grass not too far from some rhubarb plants. All winter and earlier in the spring, there were two or three large rabbits playing in the yard, but now they are nowhere to be found. Seemingly all alone, this small bunny seems to cling to this area of my yard because it is well protected on three sides, has some green grass, and a few spots for hiding, one under the back steps. As cute as she is, I am surprised to find her all alone. When I go out the door on the other side of the house, I often see one or two large rabbits, especially in the vacant lot across the alley and in my neighbors' yards. I wonder if they are aware that there is a small and lonely rabbit nearby?

I must confess, I worry about this bunny. She seems so vulnerable. Yesterday on the neighbor's roof, there were four or five large crows staring down into the grass not far from her hiding spot. I was praying she was not part of their dinner plans. And I hoped that  the large cat that sometimes roams the alley in the morning would not find her. As I pondered the vulnerability of the bunny, I realized there must also be many people whose lives are just as vulnerable as hers. Although there is very little I can do to protect this bunny, there is much that we as the church can do to help those most vulnerable among us. Of course, first we must open our eyes and be willing to see and notice them and then have as much concern for them as I feel for the baby bunny.

In Matthew's gospel that we read for Sunday, Jesus says, "Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." My prayer for this week is that we as followers of Jesus Christ can notice those among us who in their vulnerability desperately need our care and protection, and then do as Jesus does, ease their burdens and give  them rest.

 I am going to take a day off from writing Musings.  I offer this poem by Georgia Harkness and Lloyd Stone. Watch for our float in the Hill City parade on July 4th!

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.

May truth and freedom come to every nation;
may peace abound where strife has raged so long;
that each may seek to love and build together,
a world united, righting every wrong;
a world united in its love for freedom,
proclaiming peace together in one song.

In my travels between churches, I have had the opportunity to watch flower and vegetable gardens be transformed from patches of brown to beautiful shades of green. Peonies have reached their peak, old fashioned rose bushes are in full display, and by now, folks are on the third pulling of rhubarb. I have always admired those gardens that are neat and orderly, where even cucumbers know not to misbehave as they attach their tentacles only to the cages and arbors assigned to them. For several years, I have tried to plant squash, and for whatever reason, the vines just never took hold, failing to yield fruit. 

This year, I decided to move on and planted tomatoes, lettuce, and cucumbers, and then replaced squash with eggplant. My raised bed was thriving!  Several weeks ago, however, I noticed a few uninvited guests in my garden. As they began to grow, I discovered one was a summer squash and the other a winter squash. I was going to pull them out but decided to let them be. Afterall, I could not grow squash when I tried, so I assumed there would be little chance they would thrive now. But lo and behold, they have become the stars of the garden. Lush and healthy vines with large beautiful leaves are marching through the garden, surrounding the tomatoes, and holding the egg plant hostage. 

I bet Jesus would appreciate the efforts of the squash in my garden. Afterall, Jesus always welcomed those amongst him who had been forgotten, ignored, and cast aside. As I watch the plants in my raised bed grow, I am realizing there is enough space for all of them. It may not be neat and tidy, but neither is our world, and certainly not the church. My prayer for us this week is we will welcome all folks into our faith community to thrive, just like the uninvited squash is now welcome in my raised bed. 

As a boy of ten, I sang in the children's choir at St. Anthony's Catholic in Ely, Minnesota. One afternoon, while waiting for our parents after rehearsal, several of us got the "giggles." Our giggles turned into belly laughs and the large empty church resonated with the sounds of our laughter. After several minutes, one of the priests stormed out of the sacristy and in a loud voice reprimanded us saying, "You must be quiet in church!" Not able to control ourselves, we decided to wait for our parents on the front steps of the church where we proceeded to have a snowball fight. Then, one of the Benedictine sisters appeared with two shovels asking us much more politely than the priest to clean up our mess. Now, to be fair, churches are places where people come to pray and find refuge in silence, much like some folks find refuge in the silence of the woods. On the other hand, I have always wondered if Jesus would have been angry with us for bringing laughter into the church? I suspect not. Afterall, Psalm 27:6 says, "And now shall my head be lifted up above my enemies round about me; therefore, will I offer in God's tabernacle sacrifices of joy. Yea, I will sing praises unto the Lord."

Much more recently, after a worship service hosted by Cromwell United Methodist Church, someone told me, "I never knew church could be fun!" On that day, 80 or more folks gathered in the Cromwell Pavilion to worship, eat, and dance! On my drive home, I also thought of all the folks at Moose Lake UMC who have been having fun in their garden and at community meals, as well as how much joy there was in Hill City when the church gathered to not only break open the Word, honor graduates, and then break bread at a fish fry. Lest we forget, there is nothing more joyful than the sound of a baby crying during worship. I think we all feel more alive when we hear the utterances from the youngest among us during the pastor's sermon.

My sisters and brothers, we live in a world that quite often lacks joy. My prayer for us this week is that when our communities gather, we find ways to do so with reverence, but then we also find ways to make merry, finding joy in the Gospel, and of course, in each other.  

 In my early morning travels to Hill City, Cromwell, and Moose Lake, I am always on the lookout for deer alongside the road. On more than one occasion, and when least expecting it, deer have dashed out in front of the car. So far, I have been fortunate to not hit them.  This weekend, however, I had a new obstacle to be concerned with -- snapping turtles. As a matter of fact, between Coleraine and Warba on Saturday morning, I slowed my car down five times for large snappers leisurely crossing the road. I am fairly certain they had just finished laying eggs in some sandy bank, and were now on their way back to a favorite lake, river, or bog. Their perilous journey of crossing roads takes place only two or three weeks out of each year. This is not my first time observing the snappers laying eggs. I have often marveled how far they are willing to travel, oftentimes up hills, to reach their destination. Even though they have great agility and ease when swimming, and are perfectly at home in mucky waters, land travel forces them to use all of their strength to not only reach their destination, but also dig a hole for their eggs, before making the long return back to the comforts of water. 

Of course, what is also quite amazing is that once the snapper lays her eggs, she does not stick around to watch them hatch. As she lumbers away, the eggs are vulnerable and may provide a feast for fox, mink, skunks, and racoons. It is quite possible that of the thirty to forty eggs she lays, maybe only one will make it to adulthood. And yet, for hundreds of thousands of years, snapping turtles remain faithful to their task, with some reaching ages not unlike Sara and Abraham, of well over 100 years. 

I pray that we can have the faith of a snapping turtle!  Afterall, just like a snapping turtle gives all she can to bring new ones into the world, we too must do all we can to  remain faithful to Christ's message of loving each other unconditionally. Furthermore, just as there is no guarantee how many turtle eggs will hatch and reach maturity, we too, in our loving unconditionally, should also be aware that not everyone will be able receive our love as intended. Through faith, however, and not unlike the snapping turtle, we should never lose sight of our task.  Afterall, it was Jesus who commanded us to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength, and to Love your neighbor as yourself." 

Sunday morning, I rousted myself out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. I peered out the dining room window and was glad to see the birdfeeder had not been terrorized by the raccoon. A friend had suggested putting hot pepper oil on the post, but since I did not have any, I made a concoction of ground chili pepper and a bit of oil and slathered it on the metal post. Feeling a bit triumphant, I grabbed a cup of coffee, looked out the kitchen window, and noticed that  something had been digging in the recently planted raised bed. Upon closer inspection,  I realized the raccoon, unsuccessful at the bird feeder, had now set his sights on the garden bed.I will deal with him later.

Needing to make some stops before going to church, I raced out the door, stopped by the ATM, and headed to the grocery store. At the checkout counter, I reached for my wallet; only to realize I did not have my debit card. I asked the clerk if she could put my groceries to the side, and I raced back to the bank only to realize I had most likely left the card in the machine. Feeling a bit stressed, I raced back to the store to fetch my groceries. The very hospitable clerk had put them aside, and using a bit of cash and a partially used gift card in the back of my wallet, I had just enough money to make the purchase with 27 cents to spare.  While being  put on hold when calling the bank to cancel my card, my stress level skyrocketed. When I finally was connected to a real person, I lost my phone connection and my patience as I rounded the turn by Hennessey Lake. Arriving at church, I realized I left my keys at home. Sitting in the church parking lot, I began to feel defeated. 

I called someone who graciously lent me their key. As I unlocked the church and began opening the windows, my body began to relax. Folks began to arrive to help make coffee, set up the sound system, and fold bulletins. Soon others appeared and the church filled up with laughter and pleasant conversation. This carried through our worship together, and on my way home, I stopped for a few minutes to enjoy the swans at Hennessey Lake.  We are in the season of Pentecost when we embrace the gift of the Holy Spirit. Just like I witnessed the Holy Spirit in the kindness of the clerk at the store, the gathering of community at the church, and in the peacefulness of the swans on Hennessey Lake, may we discover the Spirit in the day to day of our lives. Come, Holy Spirit, come and renew the face of the earth. 

Sunday morning, I made my way  to church early, so I could stop at Hennessey Lake to look for the two swans who usually take up their summer residence there. Since I moved to the Grand Rapids area in 2014, with the arrival of spring, there has always been a pair of swans gliding through the shallow waters of the small lake. On Friday, I drove to the lake two times, and I did find one swan, barely visible, amongst the cattails and reeds. I was excited when I saw the one, hoping their mate was nearby, maybe even sitting on a nest!

Sadly, on Sunday, there were no swans when I stopped for a moment of prayer. Of course, as I scanned the lake with my binoculars, I did see a loon, several other ducks, red-winged blackbirds, several crows, and an eagle soaring high above the murky water. I could hear frogs croaking, mosquitos buzzing, and not too far away, a muskrat was trying to evade notice along the shoreline. As I made one last scan of the south end of the lake, a heron was wading in the water. But sadly, no swans. 

As I returned to my car and took another look at the lake, I realized that even though the swans could not be found, there is life on Hennessey Lake. In my searching for two swans, I discovered a larger community of wildlife  worthy of my attention and care. At our Sunday worship service, we celebrated Jesus' ascension back to God with the promise that he would send the Holy Spirit to us to help us renew the earth, and then he would return again. In much the same way as the absence of the swans helped me see the wonder and beauty of Creation, Jesus' physical absence, with the help of Holy Spirit, should assist us in not only seeing the beauty of creation, but also the necessity of caring for all of Creation, just as Jesus cares for us. 

 The best sign that winter has finally passed is when leaves on the aspen and poplar trees suddenly appear, transforming the nakedness of the forest into a lush landscape of brilliant green. When the wind blows, the leaves quake, creating a sound more beautiful than any symphony orchestra. Nearby, in bogs and swamps, once naked tamarack are now producing lace-like foliage which appears as a green mist in the early morning sunshine.  No longer wondering if they will need to shovel snow in the morning, folks are busy trying to determine when it will be safe to plant tomatoes. Dandelions are everywhere, and it is hard to resist mowing. 

Sometimes, it is hard to know when winter ends and spring begins, but today I am certain we are heading into summer. Everywhere, people are  tilling gardens, refreshing raised beds, and some are even planting trees. I see folks playing baseball and softball, while others are on golf courses. This weekend, I saw numerous boats behind cars and trucks, and even more on the lakes with eager fisherfolk working hard to catch enough fish for dinner. After a cold winter and wet spring, we all welcome the warmth of summer. Who does not enjoy being able to go outside without having to bundle up in layers?

In a similar way, just like folks in Minnesota move the daily activities of their lives in summer to the outdoors, we too, as followers of Jesus Christ are called to bring the work of caring for others outside the doors of our buildings. We will always continue to gather and praise God in our beautiful churches, but just like our vegetable gardens are outside the doors of our homes, the gardens that the church needs to tend are also outside and eagerly await our attention and care.

For several days, I have noticed a woodchuck hanging out in a grassy area across the highway at the Natural Resources Research Institute. Woodchucks, sometimes called groundhogs, whistle pigs, or land beavers, are considered pests by many people, especially those who have gardens, because woodchucks love most vegetables, and their burrows and holes can be problematic for horses and humans. When I mentioned the woodchuck to one friend, they suggested a variety of ways to get rid of it.    

However, woodchucks are highly intelligent and important creatures in the woodland ecosystem because by burrowing they help aerate the soil and help bring needed nutrients closer to the surface. The past two days, as I watched the woodchuck through my window, a solitary Canadian Goose was also waddling around just a few yards away from it. I wondered why she was not with other geese; afterall, I am so used to seeing them in pairs or flocks.  Although I doubt the woodchuck and the goose were having a conversation about the weather or sharing recipes, I was impressed by how the one was not bothered by the presence of the other. Maybe they actually appreciated the company?

I suspect if Jesus were to come walking by, he would have reached out both to the outcast woodchuck and the solitary Canadian Goose, just like he reached out to the Samaritan woman at the well and man born blind sitting on the side of the road. My prayer for us this week is that we find ways to be present to others just like Jesus is present to us. 

It is the first of May, and most of the lakes in the Northern part of Minnesota are still covered in ice. This weekend, I traveled down to the Twin Cities, and most lakes there are opening up and have very little ice. Soon, just in time for the fishing opener, almost all of the lakes in the state will be welcoming boats and fisherfolk for another season of outdoor recreation.  While at the home of a friend in Minneapolis, I noticed her tulips were blooming and the trees were beginning to green. Fortunately, as I look out my window, most of the snow has melted in my yard and in a few days, I too will grab my rake and begin cleaning up the leaves I neglected to gather up last fall.

Around the world in every geographic location, people are in a season although maybe not exactly the same season. Afterall, when we begin summer in the United States, winter is just beginning in Australia. Then there are those places around the equator where the changing of season is more subtle and almost undetectable. When I take time to think about seasons such as spring and summer, I am reminded that Church time is also marked by seasons.

My dear friends, we are still in the season of Easter!  Just because stores removed chocolate bunnies and eggs from their shelves the day after Easter Sunday does not mean we should not continue to celebrate the Risen Christ right up to Pentecost, the birthday of the Church. However, my prayer for us this week is that we find ways to rejoice and praise God everyday, well after Pentecost. Christ was crucified on a cross and then rose because of God's love and concern for us.  May we make every day a time to love others the way Jesus loves us. 

It is not possible for me to ignore the overflowing rivers and streams, as well as the fields that look like lakes, nor the muddy soil in parking lots as I travel between Moose Lake, Cromwell, and Hill City.  Never have I seen so much water surround homes and buildings that we once thought would be safe from flooding. Even though I have enjoyed the many ducks, swans, geese, and other birds that seem to be finding refuge in these temporary sanctuaries, I do worry for folks who are in the path of these uncontrollable flows of power. 

I usually try to share a story, and often with a bit of humour in my Monday missive. However, today, in an attempt to be more forthright, I would like to say if there ever was a time for the church to be church, and considering all of the chaos in the world both locally and in distant locales, now is the time for all of us to put aside our differences around political and social issues and extend greetings of peace, accompanied by a helping hand. In this season of the Risen Christ, there are multiple times Jesus begins his conversations with, "Peace be with you."  Maybe we should do exactly the same thing.  Borrowing from Francis of Assisi:

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where this is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be love, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen

On Friday, I sat at my table and watched a butterfly flit about the yard in the warm sunshine. On Saturday, two rabbits scampered about  as the rain created small pools in the alleyway. On Sunday, the ground was covered with a blanket of white snow. On Monday morning at sunrise, the wind created small snow drifts, while juncos and sparrows found shelter underneath the steps of the back door. 

Each day, as I glance out my window, it is hard to believe how quickly the landscape changes. The world beyond my window is in a constant state of flux. When I turn on the television to watch a bit of the news, I am bombarded with war, shootings, floods, and all forms of chaos. Oftentimes, I want to close the curtains and lower the blinds, so I can block out the darkness of the world.

Of course, if we choose to block out the darkness, we run the risk of blocking out sunshine as well. We just celebrated Easter last week, when we remembered how Christ rose from the dead to redeem the world. Christ, the morning star that never fades, beckons us to not block ourselves off from the world that needs our care. This morning, I will begin my day by refilling the bird feeder and putting out a few carrots and a bag of lettuce that has reached its expiration date for the rabbits. 

Sunday morning, just prior to sunrise, I made my way to Hill City for the sunrise service. As I drove into the darkness, I was still humming some of the hymns we sang in Cromwell the night before at their Easter gathering. Afterall, one never tires of "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today" even if the voice begins to give out. When I arrived in Hill City, folks gathered to build a fire, set up chairs, and make coffee. Once again, and this time as the sun began to rise, those gathered, and with as much enthusiasm as one might have at 6:36 am, also sang "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today."  

Indeed, it was a beautiful morning! On my way to Moose Lake, there were all kinds of robins. blackbirds, and juncos flitting about  while eagles, ravens, and crows were feasting on carcasses of deer at the edge of the road. Small congregations of turkeys briefly raised their heads as I sped by. In some fields and on every river, pond, and lake there were ducks, geese, and swans. With my windows open, I swore they too were singing an Easter anthem.

Arriving in Moose Lake, I was fortunate to be greeted by the smell of egg bake and rolls. After we stuffed ourselves with food and talk, we went into the sanctuary, and once again joined in singing, "Christ the Lord is Risen Today."  As I departed Moose Lake to make my way home, I wondered what the world would be like if we started every day singing "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today, Alleluia!" My prayer this week is that we never forget that we are Resurrection people, and just like Christ rose so we may live, we too must rise so we can do our part in loving others as Christ loves us.

Early this morning, and just before the sun was beginning to rise, I donned my plaid flannel bathrobe and a pair of flip flops and snuck outside to put out the trash can. Like so many mornings this winter, there was a coating of snow on the driveway. However, since it was warm, I was fairly certain the ice had melted, so I scampered quickly to get the container in place.  Suddenly, I hit a small patch of ice and one of my flip flops went sailing into the air and my hindquarters hiy the driveway. I said, "Please Jesus, no broken bones!"  I rested for a moment on the pavement and noticed a  bunny just across the alley in a snowbank staring at me, probably not sure what to make of this odd creature dressed in plaid. As I gingerly rousted myself from the pavement, I was grateful that all body parts were accounted for and in good working condition. I hopped to the snowbank where my flip flop had landed, put it back on my bare foot, and went inside for a hot cup of coffee.

Of course, this is not the first time I called on Jesus to be with me in recent months.  In my travels between Hill City, Cromwell, and Moose Lake, during snowy weather, I have asked Jesus to please keep my car on the road just about every week. As a matter of fact, we have spent a fair amount of time this winter during worship praying for the safe travel of family and friends. We recently prayed for safe travel for those going on mission trips to serve those in need and for those seeking treatment for health concerns.  We have also prayed this winter for those dearly departed on their way home to be Jesus Christ in heaven.

This week is Holy Week, and it is a time when we remember Jesus' journey to cross, culminating with his resurrection on Easter. Jesus'  journey is a trip he has taken out of love for us so that we may be forgiven for our sins. My prayer this week is that just as we ask Jesus to be with us on all of our journeys in life, we take some time to also walk with Jesus on the road to Calvary where he carries the burdens of the world in the shape of a cross. If we walk with Jesus this week, we also can lighten the burdens of the world by loving others just as Jesus loves us. In this way, as Christ rises on Easter, so can the pains and troubles of our broken world also be lifted. 

Just the other day, while sitting around a table with some folks at church, the conversation turned to the topic of birds. People were sharing about the variety of birds at their feeders. Of course, there were chickadees, nuthatches, and jays. Some were fortunate to have cardinals, as well all types of grosbeaks, including pine, rose-breasted, and evening. One person mentioned a recent trip to the Sax-Zim bog and shared her sighting of the Boreal Chickadee. Earlier in the month, while visiting some friends in Cromwell, we were entertained by turkeys strutting through their yard, while a pileated woodpecker poked at some treats l feeder. 

This morning, as I pulled back my curtains in the dining room, I had two visitors at my feeder, pigeons!  The past two winters, they have been my most consistent guests. At first, I was a bit disappointed, and even some friends were not shy in their disgust for these city dwelling interlopers. Afterall, most folks consider them dirty, pedestrian, and not worthy enough to share a feeder with a cardinal or chickadee. Afterall, even the Canadian Jay is more tolerated than the pigeon.  

However, over the course of time, I have grown to love my pigeon friends. I watch them fly from their home under the bridge over highway 169. Even though they have trouble landing at the feeder, they seem content eating the seeds that lie on the ground. The squirrels and rabbits seem more accepting of the pigeon than the other birds. I guess pigeons are considered the "other" in the bird world, and yet, they too deserve a place at the feeder. I bet Jesus Christ, in his ministry to those who are often cast out by society, would have loved pigeons. My prayer for us this week is that we find new ways to welcome all, whether people or pigeons, to share in the banquet of love Christ provides the world.