Author: Dann Farquhar

A Springtime Reminder of Hope

Six months ago I wrote about planting bulbs as an act of hope. https://www.internationalministries.org/an-act-of-hope/

In early March, after walking my living labyrinth planted with three kinds of bulbs, these words came to me:

Barefoot, cold penetrating the soles of my feet, I walk gingerly on the path formed by wooden rounds, circling slowly towards the center where I’ll sit for a minute or so. Each day, a new green sprout reaches upward, a bit too slowly for my taste. I want to see more progress, a bloom, and evidence of life. Yet, the slow growth grounds me in a way. I am held in patient pause, forced to look for the small, incremental shifts that escape my gaze when I’m in a hurry. With each step I notice the clutter of fallen leaves slowly decomposing, tree limbs tossed onto the path by winds of the night, footprints of deer passing through. I try not to be annoyed, the constant maintenance of the perfect path is wearying. I fight the urge to declutter, moving forward, noticing, naming, but refusing to stay stuck. Hugging the curves, tender green shoots of the bulbs I planted are emerging with the promise of more. I smile remembering how shriveled and dead looking they were in the Fall. Now they are changing, transformed by some miraculous organic process that I barely understand. I see the signs, glimpses of life, they draw me further in. I am captivated, caught, coerced to keep moving, slowly, one step at a time. The mystery of what is coming, the colors that will eventually emerge, the hope of beauty on the brink of bursting open. I can’t wait, but I must. There is a mix of bulbs planted. I arrive at the center, surrounded by daffodils, not yet blooming, but easy to imagine their yellow heads soon popping out from their green hoodies. The hyacinths are forming in the fractal way they do, to line the straight paths towards and away from the center. The surprises that await me most are the irises that line the edges of each concentric circle leading to the center. I found them on the side of the road, generously offered by a kind stranger. Ten bags overflowing with random rhizomes waiting to be planted, tended and then welcomed in all of their glory. I won’t know for a while what exactly they will look like. Until then, I’ll walk, I’ll wait, I’ll hope. 

Now it’s April of 2023. As the rains continue to fall in between moments of sunshine and a warming wind, I see signs of life unfolding. This living labyrinth that I planted last October has survived the six month mole burrowing, deer munching challenges of its natural canvas. The wooden rounds are a bit wonky, but the path is still clear. The clover planted in the Fall is patchy and interspersed with volunteer unknown forest “weeds” that seem to grow unaided this time of year. I’ve decided to wait and see what comes as the sunshine and growth increase. This experiment of mine has taught me a few lessons about waiting and continues to spark my curiosity with each new contemplative wander. I wonder if I should plant more early bloomers in between the irises so there are flowers blooming around the path all season long or if it is enough to know that more blooms are coming, thus embracing the wait. I wonder if the deer will leave the iris flowers to bloom since they’ve already munched on the greens. I wonder if there will be enough for all of us. Enough nibbles and enough beauty for both? I know there are no guarantees, and yet I’ll choose to hope. I am learning to notice the small shifts both on and in the path and in me. I am learning to love what comes without trying to control the outcome. I am learning to appreciate the slow ripening of time, the shifting soundscape of migrating birdsong, and the surprising encouragement of uncertain survival. I can’t wait to see, smell and feel the glory in the round, in full blooming, brilliant color. Yet, I must. When it finally comes, I’ll be ready. I’d love you to come by for a wander and a welcome, but if you can’t, I’ll share some pics soon.

Gratefully yours on the Way,

Mylinda

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. -Hebrews 12:1-2

I hope this note finds you well and experiencing God’s grace and peace in your daily life. A week from today I will be heading to Ecuador for the second time. Invited by Baptist Peace Fellowship friend, Eloy Alfaro and  RECONPAZ (Continental Network for Peace), I will join 10 others in a pilot project called Global View, a global immersion experiment for students, social change agents, and faith communities to learn from diverse community leaders in the Amazon and the Andes. In preparation, I have been preparing  my heart, head and hands through prayerful ponderings, challenging reading, and the creative process. Two books I’ve appreciated and recommend are: Restoring the Kinship Worldview: Indigenous Voices Introduce 28 Precepts for Rebalancing Life on Planet Earth  by Darcia Narváez and Wahinkpe Topa and Hospicing Modernity: Facing Humanity’s Wrongs and the Implications for Social Activism by Vanessa Machado de Oliveira. 

As part of the program, we will be offering gifts to our hosts as a tangible reminder of our gratitude. I figured I could make some original art to share. I have been exploring the idea of our cloud of witnesses and the people, places and processes that shape who we are and what we bring into every new encounter. Playing with layers of paint, photographic image transfers of the forest where my feet are currently local, and an ancient Celtic symbol that has become a metaphor of encounter for me, these images arrived. In response, I wrote a poem in Spanish, translated it into English and hope to have help translating it in conversation with our indigenous hosts into their heart language. I share these with you not as a show, but rather to ask for your solidarity, support and sacred curiosity of the wisdom and care that can be nurtured and

shared through these encounters. Thank you for being part of my great cloud of witnesses. Without you, I wouldn’t be me.

In gratitude and grace,

Mylinda

Encuentros en el Camino

Por M Baits

El encuentro en el camino conocido

Caminando acompañada

Rodeadas por ancestros antiguos y amigas nuevas

Sostenidas por la tierra santa, el viento respirado, y la compañía compartida

El encuentro en el camino desconocido

Descubriendo fortalezas escondidas

Acompañadas por aprendizaje y apapacho 

Sorprendidas por las memorias destapadas, la belleza regalada, y el alma tocada

Hagamos un camino nuevo

Tejiendo nuestras historias, cicatrices y celebraciones

Invitadas a aprender, imaginar y crear un paso a la vez

Animadas por los cantos, colores y conversaciones sobre la marcha

Encounters on the Way

By M Baits

The encounter on the known way

Walking accompanied

Surrounded by old ancestors and new friends

Sustained by holy ground, wind breathed in, and company shared

The encounter on the unknown way

Discovering hidden strengths

Accompanied by learning and soul’s embrace

Surprised by the memories revealed, the beauty gifted, and the soul touched

Let’s make a new way

Weaving our stories, scars and celebrations

Invited to learn, imagine and create one step at a time

Encouraged by the songs, colors and conversations along the way