Canada Saga 2012 - June 14

"I, God, am your playmate! I will lead you in wonderful ways, for I have chosen you."

(Mechthild of Magdeburg)

"It is a happy talent to know how to play." (Emerson)

The garden, usually colorful and joyful by now, sits unplanted, with empty hooks where hanging baskets should be. Our little patio home, generally all spiffed-up from its winter dormancy in just a few days, remains in need of a good surface cleaning. Our return was delayed by some late weddings in Louisiana, and the usual effort of settling in has been further delayed by some lingering back and neck pains accrued in those final weeks of preparing for our summer in Paradise, making even sitting at the computer today uncomfortable.

 But we are here, having landed Tuesday on a cool misty afternoon, greeted by four circling eagles over the tiny Qualicum airfield. Besides an inoperative computer and an ever-increasing sputtering from Michael's little run-around car, our arrival was marked by an almost eerie normalcy, as if we were just returning from a quick trip for a gallon of milk instead of a winter-long absence. Michael, of course, now has two manly projects: dutifully researching used car options, and finding a solution to my recalcitrant computer, while I attempt to rest my neck and pretend the garden doesn't matter.

 The realities of other changes are more reflective of the cycles of life and play. A good friend has slipped more deeply into dementia, and instead of visiting with her at the coffee shop or in her apartment, I'll be seeing her in the nursing home. Sweet and funny Mickey, our precious neighbor and friend died with Alzheimer's over the winter, not without leaving more stories about her numerous attempts at escape from the home.  Another neighbor, a golfing friend of Michael's, died quite suddenly last fall, and we'll miss seeing him for the occasional chat out by the water. I think of my Uncle, who, just weeks before his passing in April, was toasting and hosting all of us late into the night in celebration of his 90th birthday. Another friend is preparing for the joy of her second daughter's wedding, while I look forward to meeting the newest addition to her family, her grandson from her first daughter.

 This shift in season and setting each year offers almost a time-travel perspective, a reflection of the ever changing and impermanent aspect of life. Ultimately it is only Love that remains: families tearfully saying good-bye, friends hugging warm welcomes, the heart and soul stirring with the rhythms of the ocean and the flights of eagles, a deer's eye watching through the fragrance of the wild roses, the Divine ruah in the breath of the forest wind, the HU of a breeze rushing down from the mountains.

 It gets harder and harder to leave each year, whether from Louisiana to the Island or the other way around. Before we left to come up here, I visited an elderly friend who had broken her ankle and is now bed-ridden in a skilled-nursing unit. "My ankle got stuck in one place as I fell away from it," was her explanation of her accident. Yesterday a young friend here described her broken leg in much the same way: "My foot slipped off a curb and got stuck while my body fell in another direction," setting up a spiraling action that shattered her tibia. Over and over again, we make the same mistake along our own journeys. When we resist, when we are rigid, when our spirit is called to move, to listen, to shift and we aren't paying attention, something in us breaks.

 The good news - the GREAT news - is that we are never forever broken, only comforted, set aright, and pushed gently forward into our calling, much as a mother might encourage her child to return to the swings after a fall. Sometimes we are called to work. Sometime we are called to play. Sometimes, hard as it might be, we are called to rest as we heal. "The true object of human life is play," wrote Chesterton. "Earth is a task garden. Heaven is a playground."

 We have been blessed and fortunate enough to find this little piece of heaven on earth, and the task of the garden will be play soon enough.

YAY GOD.