Edgewise to the massive cliffs on either side of our RV, we nose through a misty canyon in Colorado.
Along the rim of a rocky cutaway, one valiant tree sports May’s latest green. Beyond its small canopy, ghostly aspen trunks mount the next slope: limbless, charred. Their music, silenced.
Fire once ravaged parts of this canyon. You could draw a v-shaped line where the flames stopped.
“Edge areas” between differing habitats are ecologically distinct. In the foreground above, lichens inch across stone. Sparse vegetation seeks footholds, hunkers edgewise between rocks.
In the ruined woods beyond, ground covers will vary now, as will returning wildlife.
The division appears stark, even hostile. Yet a strange serenity rules here, amidst devastation. There’s something compelling at play in this scene.
I’ve been dividing my evenings between several books, pulling out words and ideas from each and letting them converse in my head.
One book currently captivating me is God in the Yard: Spiritual Practice for the Rest of Us, by L. L. Barkat. She describes it as “a 12-week course in discovery and playing towards God.”
For someone who often overworks, the idea of playing towards God feels irresistible.
The right book in a ripe time offers gifts, unparalleled.
Published in 2010, this one reached me belatedly, and it’s searching and sifting my soul with each chapter I read.
An Edgewise Commitment
Barkat made an odd commitment after reading a book she found pivotal: Radical Simplicity, by Jim Merkel.
With her senses and soul open wide, for one year she spent time in her small backyard every day—no matter the weather—“to find some contentment and beauty” (p.5.).
Some days (and nights) she slotted in backyard dates edgewise: Fifteen minutes in falling snow or rain was all the time she could spare.
Just as the photo above suggests a heart-shaped area of destruction wedged between soaring walls of grandeur, so God in the Yard is gently ushering me between grief and recovery.
Pages nearly vibrate with unexpected observations. Paradoxes invite further exploration. Soul Questions are interspersed with scenes from the author’s life and readings. She invites the reader to fill in the blanks. For example:
When I was a child, I lived______________
Today I live________________________
If I could, I would return to_____________
My answers describe edges in my life: geographically, emotionally, and spiritually.
- Yes, I long for earlier terrain (and people) no longer available
- And yes, acceptance grows slowly at deeper levels
- There are also actions I can take
Wisdom expands as I learn to honor new ways to thrive.
And you? (This is a question Barkat asks, again and again.)
Do you perceive a distinct edge for yourself? What change might you need to accept (or reject)? What one action can you take (or stop taking) to move you toward discovery and thriving?
God in the Yard: Spiritual Practice for the Rest of Us, L. L. Barkat, T.S. Poetry Press, 2010.
Note: “Words in Edgewise” is a title borrowed from a marvelous show created and directed by my mentor, Pat Stien.
What a lovely reflection, Laurie. I’m so glad that the book is taking you on little journeys.
When I was a child, I lived in the woods. (As you know from the opening.) Today, I am remaking those woods in the tiniest of ways. This morning, the birds are singing outside my door, where I’ve planted pear and elderberry. It is something of paradise, for me.
I look forward to what you continue to plant in the world 🙂
Laura, your book keeps taking me places I haven’t been before. I hope some of my readers will order a copy!
And how wonderful that pear and elderberry are now flourishing in the little woods. I like imagining them laced with today’s birdsong. 🙂
Laura, your book keeps taking me places I haven’t been before. I hope some of my readers will order a copy!
And how wonderful that pear and elderberry are now flourishing in the little woods. I like imagining them festooned with today’s birdsong. 🙂
Wisdom expands as I learn to honor new ways to thrive. Powerful words that for me describe faith; honoring new ways. Meshing hearts with Jesus, arms linked in new ways to thrive, to navigate, to embrace life. Years ago a fire blew through my soul. O Lord, how shall I survive? My one sentence plea for life. A two sentence response; Roberta, you may choose to believe a man took your brothers’s life or you can choose to believe I called him home. I CALLED HIM HOME.
“You may choose to believe”. Thus began the foundation of honoring new ways to thrive. I remember, I go back so I may go forward.
Oh Roberta, amid devastation and loss I can’t imagine, what an answer. What a choice. “I remember, I go back so I may go forward.” Thank you for sharing a part of your story and this amazing sentence: “You may choose to believe.” Carrying this with me today with gratitude for such mercy and courage. Thank you.
It’s a powerful book, isn’t it?
Love your descriptions of those edge areas. When we’re in Colorado, I’m always drawn to the parts that have been ravaged by fire and are regrowing in different ways.
Yes, it surely is. And so is yours, Megan! I’m always amazed at the way the land regenerates after a fire. I once read somewhere that after WW II, wildflowers bloomed in Hyde Park that hadn’t been seen in years, something about the bombs and . . . nitrates, I think. Miraculous planet design.
When I was a child I lived freely and confidently. Now I live more carefully and with trepidation or insecurity ( at least some of the time). I would like to get back to knowing who I am in God so strongly that I have more confidence to be who I am.
Kathleen, what a wonderful childhood you had. I join you 100% in the desire to reclaim that kind of freedom and be our truest, grace-filled selves. Your comment makes me think: it’s our inheritance, too, isn’t it. May your feet skip to a happy tune today.
Oh, sigh, “God in the Yard” is a perfect accompaniment for this trip. A life-changer, no? Thank you for your “postcard” from the road and from your heart.
It is perfect for me at this point, yes. So stimulating and thought provoking. I can only imagine how wonderful your retreat was when you and K. used prompts as a springboard for the writers. Praying for your well-being, my friend.
Timely for me to read your beautiful writing this day Laurie ! ?thank you for sharing the wisdom that can brings us into that wondrous connection of present and invitational
Beauty,
Donna
oops, no question mark
“present and invitational”—such lovely words. Donna, thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment. So glad the words were timely for you!
Thanks, so much Donna. Glad the words resonated with you.