It is 6:37 a.m. and still dark outside. It is totally quiet inside and out – the only sound being that of my keyboard. As I wait for the light to come I wonder when the niggling anxiety will cease – inside and out. Today I will go to Albany – a 2 1/2-hour journey from here, the safety of home, the bubble I have lived in for eight months. My only travel has been to the tiny post office in our village and the drive-up window outside at the bank, except for a few antiseptic trips driving people to doctor’s offices and generally waiting outside in the cocoon of my car.
It is a strange feeling – inside and out. I am going to a “long-range planning” meeting with nine of my Sisters in religious community at a time when any sort of planning is tentative at best. We plan for a future that has been on hold now for over seven months – a future full of important projects necessary to our lives in this time of diminishment of numbers. One would think it a futile challenge, but as I begin to see the outline of the trees outside and the sound of my alarm that tells me it is time to wake up, I do.
I hear St. Paul in the lectionary today encouraging the Ephesians, praying for them that God may grant you in accord with the riches of his glory to be strengthened with power through the Spirit in the inner self, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you (we), rooted and grounded in love, may have the strength to comprehend with all the holy ones what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you (we) may be filled with all the fullness of God. (EPH 3) As I draw breath and strength from those words the psalmist weighs in with the certitude that “the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord. (PS 33)
The birds are awake and singing now. I see the clearly the tree outside and a faint expanse of pink in the sky. I am ready to meet the day and all its potential for me and us – inside and out.
In my absence today, here is a daily meditation from the monastic community, the 
It’s shockingly late as I turn to this task today (9:28AM in the Eastern part of the country). There is a gentle rain falling and quiet all around. It must be that something in me has already leaned in to a consciousness of Labor Day weekend. It seems illogical to call it the end of summer, since date-wise and temperature-wise we are far from finished with what we define as the summer season. It is, however, the moment when the school calendar resumes and takes precedence over every other way of marking the passage of time. With school back in session for youth of every age, we all fall into step with the round of activities that qualify as “work” – or labor, to be exact. So we should call this coming Monday NON-Labor Day and recognize the need for taking a breath in the work-a-day world, giving thanks for all those workers who contribute to our wellbeing.
Here’s a prayer-poem from John Philip Newell that we might might save and pull out on days when the air is heavy with the rain of the night or the scent of the soil that makes one want to go out and dig in the dirt. (Or is it just me?)
Today we celebrate the outpouring of the power that we call the Holy Spirit. Every inspiration that leads us deeper into the transformation of our hearts in love is understood as an impulse of this face of God. This Spirit is as elemental as our breath, unseen but known in myriad ways great and small – universal and individual. It is as simple as the intake of my breath at the beauty of the burgeoning flowers in spring or as miraculous as the moment a young woman first holds her newborn child. The Spirit brings many gifts, taught in Christianity (traditionally and then in modern parlance) as wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel (right judgment), fortitude (courage), piety (reverence) and fear of the Lord (Wonder and awe in God’s presence).
Jesus is out and about again this morning preaching in parables – this time Mark’s version of the sower and the seed (MK 4:1-20). I wonder if it was a whole crowd of blank looks staring back at him and then later the questions from “the Twelve” that frustrated him enough to have him ask, “Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand any of the parables?”
The Sophia Center for Spirituality 