you are God's echo.

There is something wonderful that those deep, empty caverns of our lives can bring: echoes.


And there is something comforting about an echo. When I call out, this is what the echo says back to me: You have a voice. You are heard. You are not alone.

If we really listen, there are echoes all around us. Like the ripples of hateful oppression, environmental disasters, or unspeakable evil in the world. And reverberations of peace and acts of incredible kindness. How do these impact us? 

We know that we share the air with about 7 billion people. That what we say, do, spew into the air, throw into the water, take from the land, matters. Because of its reverberations - for generations beyond us. 

I appreciate how some native groups make decisions based on what is good for the 7th generation from now. They know that decisions have ripple effects for years and years to come. I know that what I say and do has an impact - positive or negative. I have only to look at my own kids to see/hear some mini-echoes of my own behaviour. 

I love seeing perennial flowers spread and grow from year to year. They are like an echo of their original seed, which echoes its creator. How are we living as an echoes of our Creator?


I think that God's echo lives in each one of us. And our task is to tune in, to listen to, and to become this echo. In this echo/eco-spirituality, we can learn to better care for each other and for the earth.

There's a children's book that I love called Old Turtle by Douglas Wood. In it, Old Turtle tells the other animals that a new family of beings will soon come to the world. She says, "They will be reminders of all that God is... they will be strong, yet tender, a message of love from God to the earth, and a prayer from the earth back to God."

You are God's echo. Deep cavernous reverberations and light ripples on the water. A prayer from the earth back to God.

You have a voice.
You are heard.
You are not alone.

tending the summer hearth

Where is your hearth - the place where sparks are fanned to flame, where warmth is encouraged? Around the kitchen table? The piano? The barbeque? The coffee table? Traditionally, the hearth was made of stone or brick and provided a cozy gathering and warming place. It was also used for life-giving tasks like cooking and heating the home. Tending the hearth was an essential job - to keep the home fires burning so that the people living there could be sustained.

For me, tending the hearth is about intentionally caring for the souls in our home. This means our little family, but also the people who enter. You've heard me bemoan the state of our house, my yearning for a cleaner place, my desire to offer hospitality in meaningful ways. All of these feel like part of the whole hearth tending package to me.

tending the hearth: that ratty, fragile nest with strong, solid hearts within

Today I'm thinking about what hearth tending could look like this summer. And I'm struck by how I can slice up this word "hearth" into h/eart/h: hearth, earth, and heart. I think that all 3 need tending; all 3 have deep spiritual connections to each other. So here's my not-yet-finished list of ways I'd like to tend the hearth this summer.

tending the hearth:

• de-cluttering, giving away, organizing
• putting the house on a diet
• trying to make good food together
• not letting fresh produce rot in the fridge or on the counter - eating it or preserving it before it's too late
• savouring meals
• clearing space; leaving room for surprises; keeping an empty shelf
• inviting others over for backyard barbeques even if the house is messy
• singing around backyard bonfires, making s'mores and banana boats and tinfoil dinners
• making a rainbow of jelly: raspberry (red), red hot pepper (orange),  dandelion (done! bright yellow), mint (green), blueberry (blue), grape (purple)

tending the earth:

• gardening, watering, weeding
• walking
• biking
• learning more perennial flower names
• learning to identify some more bird songs
• pondering the heavens by learning the names of the different kinds of clouds (I forget them!) and learning a new constellation

tending the heart:

• reading just for fun
• slowing down and being still
• eating a whole container of peanut butter chocolate ice cream all by myself
• swimming under a starlit sky in the middle of a northern lake
• singing with my husband as he strums on the guitar
• taking a sabbath rest once a week
• taking a "digital sabbatical" while on holidays or day trips with my family
• praying by paying attention to the little things, and expanding them out through photos or writing or talking to others
• being open to surprises and to nudgings of the Spirit

What ideas do you have to tend the h/eart/h this summer?

creation cruelty??

We spent a wonderful few hours at the Waterloo Earth Day celebrations today. Lovely day, perfect weather for planting trees, holding snakes, watching owls and falcons, building birdhouses, eating hotdogs. It was terrific.

There was, however, a moment that totally caught me off guard. Eden was making a cool bookmark craft. There was a piece of fabric set on the table. She was told to put violet and forsythia flowers onto the fabric, cover them with waxed paper, then hammer the heck out of them. Here's what it looked like when she was done:

Neat, eh? I'd never seen this craft before. The colours from the flowers and leaves are dyed onto the fabric in neat designs. She was proud, and so was the 3 year old hammering next to her. The 3 year old's mother, on the other hand, was a different story. Here's how that story went:

3 year old: (hammering away at the flowers, but the waxed paper keeps slipping away on her)
Craft leader to 3 year old's mom: Do you mind just holding the waxed paper for her?
3 year old's mom: No, I can't.
3 year old: (continues to hammer away, waxed paper continues to slide)
Craft leader to 3 year old's mom: Do you mind helping? If you just hold the paper for her, it'd be much easier.
3 year old's mom: No, I'm actually against this activity. I don't think it's nature friendly. I think it's actually quite cruel.

The 3 year old finished her craft and showed it proudly to her mom. Her mom said, "Hm."

I looked down at the mom's leather shoes. And the plastic container of Huggies disposable wipes in her hand. And the juice box in her other hand. And wondered about the rest of her wardrobe, and the rest of her life. If this craft is considered cruelty, what else was I doing on a daily basis that could fit into this cruel category?

A few things came to mind quite quickly:

1. We drive a car at least once a day. This qualifies as cruelty to all of creation because of the fumes and the use of a non-renewable resource.
2. I wear leather shoes. No idea how those cows were treated, or how environmentally friendly the chemicals used in dying the leather or creating the rubber soles were.
3. I kill mosquitoes any chance I can get. Ants on the counter top? Them too.
4. I loathe mice. If I found one in our house, I would find a way to do away with it.
5. I eat vegetables. Is that being cruel to the vegetable to eat it?
6. I eat meat. Obviously cruel.

Where does the cruel line start and where does it end? Seems like a pretty sad life, to see a flower craft as cruel. But maybe I'm wrong. When I think about an average day, I can list more things that are creation cruel than creation care.

What do you see as creation cruelty? Have you changed anything about your lifestyle to care for creation in better ways?