Today was pulpit exchange Sunday, and I spent the morning with the lovely congregation of Wright UCC. They provided warm and welcoming hospitality, and I was able to greet them and be with them on behalf of their sister congregation across town. It is always fun visiting another church and seeing the unique ways they live their faith. One congregant commented on how different our two communities are. Perhaps, but I still think that what we share is greater than our differences - but our differences keep things interesting. Who would want only one flavor of ice cream - the difference possibilities keep things fun.
Sallie McFague spends much time talking about the importance of valuing those differences in her book Body of God. Homogenization may be helpful for milk, but I don't think it serves faith communities well. Let the differences be respected and celebrated instead of watered down to find the common denominator. I think we can cherish the areas in which we are alike, while equally celebrating our differences. We can still live into the UCC motto "that they may all be one" by finding our unity - our "oneness" - in God and not in an attempt to remake each other in our own image.
I've come to appreciate differences all the more as I watch them expressed at the bird feeders. Part of my experiment with resting and "destressing" involves taking a greater interest in my bird friends - since they (mostly) bring a calming presence into my life. The quails spend most of the day under the deck, and make forays over to the feeders - sometimes they race across the lawn, and other times they scoot over to the fence and slowly make their way along the fence to the feeders - stopping to munch around the rose bushes. They stay together in a group, and feed with the many mourning doves who now call the yard their home. The doves line the fences, looking like plump little puff balls carefully spaced along the fence. They fill the trees, looking like odd Christmas ornaments. They cover the ground with this off-white-pewter-gray moving carpet. The sparrows and finches flock in and hit the feeders en mass. And all is well until my red-winged troubadours swoop in and scatter all the birds - except for the Zen Mourning Doves. They look up, sigh, and just keep on keeping on. They are the mellowest birds I've ever seen. Even an invasion of starlings doesn't phase them. In fact, it takes the high speed descent of a sparrow hawk to even get their attention. But as soon as the threat has passed, they are back, cooing and preening and sunning themselves (and eating tons of dove and quail seed) and just enjoying themselves. Relaxing. Being very cool.
They are my role model for the next six days of rest. Yes, the red winged ensemble is far more entertaining - they fly in at speed scattering everything in their wake and make the most amazing music - but then they are gone in a whoosh. The Zen Doves, however, remain, cooing a soothing tune and keeping their blood pressure ever so mellow. They will be my companions during this experiment in rest and healing.
What helps you to rest and unwind? What brings healing and peace into your life? How often do you experience this - how often do you allow yourself to sink deeply into rest and renewal?
The experiment begins tomorrow. Zen Doves, here I come!
With trepidation,
Kim
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