Just through the farthest kitchen window this morning I saw the first turned leaf. Seeing it there through glass and across the room I felt as though I rested in two times, the summer that is and the fall that is to come. So many things come to be in the summer; the pace of work slows in the sun, there are more days like Sabbaths, family come by from far away and the soft toes of those infants in our life, children, grandchildren, friends, those soft toes touch the grass and we see their faces of wonder and are delighted.
Of course this is stirred into the terrors of the world, the sharp spark of hate, the aridity of indifference, the wreck of war and fire and famine, but in summer there are these days like Sabbaths and we let them rinse through us, slowing and softening us to receive what is needed for our courage, creativity and compassion.
So many things come to be in the summer and, as we come to the moment when the first leaf has turned toward fall, I invite you to sit with your summer and read it like a text. I invite you into Lectio Divina, the sacred reading of these days.
Prepare for this Lectio by finding and shaping an hour that is just for you. Bring with you, in imagination, or with tangible mementos (photos, flowers, shells, tickets from plane rides or theatre, sandals or sneakers or your favourite summer hat), the text of your summer. Create the threshold with music or tea or a cool drink in a special glass. Savour what is. Settle into the moment. Be with your experiences of summer as a sacred text.
You may listen to the guided Lectio here, pausing it to give yourself all the time you need. Or you may follow the words printed below it. Continue reading “Summer Lectio: A sacred reading of your summer”
