DIY WildWood: Hope Comes
From where does your hope come?
Maybe your world is feeling a little short on hope these days. The news is an incessant stream of bad to worse news. We're still disconnected and any glimmer of normalcy feels like it has been snatched away (again). In the belated weekly blessing I shared on Thursday I shared an invitation to write our own headlines. "Community shares personal headlines, big and small!" It's been a joy to hear your headlines, keep sharing them! It's easy to forget that amidst all the horrendous pain and heartache there are glimpses and glimmers of Holy Goodness and hope too.
This afternoon we will not meet together, instead I encourage you will take some time, five minutes, thirty minutes, an hour, to pause, to rest, to breathe. Sabbath, set apart time for deep, Holy breath, sacred rest.
A prayer for Sabbath Rest, "Welcome us into Sabbath rest - even as we care for our families. Help us rest well together, lighting fires in our hearts and homes." (This prayer was written in February, so adapt the bit about winter raging.)
Go for a walk in the woods.
Spend time in the garden, your yard or the WildWood Garden. (There are tomatoes and raspberries ready for snacking!)
Take a nap.
Create, art, music, a mess, sew, bake, etc...
Read a soul-filling book. Read a deliciously mindless book!
Cook and eat a meal.
Listen to a podcast. I am enjoying On Being with Krista Tippett.
Spend time with a kiddo, let them lead your time, pay attention to what they notice and wonder, experience the world through their eyes.
Listen to or create music. My Joy Is Heavy, by the Bengsons
Inhale - My heart is sad.
Exhale - Help me have hope.
Spend time doing the thing your heart longs for.
My prayer with and for us all is that we can find time to rekindle our hope. The song, Hope Comes from the Bengsons, has been an anthem in my head and heart these days."Hope comes from the place where the hurt comes." Hope and hurt coexist. "Hope is not a feeling, hope is an action."
May it be so.
Blessing on your day. See you in the garden next Sunday.