Weekly Update: 3.16.24
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity
Through belief in the threeness
Through confession of the Oneness
Towards the creator...
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun
Brilliance of moon
Splendor of fire
Speed of lightning
Swiftness of wind
Depth of sea
Stability of earth
Firmness of rock.From "The Lorica" of Saint Patrick
Tradition says that Saint Patrick wrote his Lorica around 433, perhaps before meeting with a dangerous Irish king. The word "lorica" means "breastplate," meaning a prayer of protection. Folded between lines invoking the Trinity and asking for God's help against evil, this ancient prayer meditates on God's strength present to us in the natural world. They say that the early Celtic Christians -- perhaps because of their Druid heritage, or perhaps because of their agrarian lifestyle -- were unusually adept at seeing God's presence within His creation. During these beautiful, volatile spring days, I can't help reflecting on my Celtic ancestry and the Scotch-Irish who once settled these Ozark hills. I wonder about the concept of bone-memory, and the way so many in my family have always seen God best outside beneath the clear, sunlit sky.
Kneeling each morning in the garden feels almost like a prayer, as we join the seasonal dance step He is calling. It's weeks yet before we can plant anything in the earth itself, but we have been busy clearing sod and removing rocks.
Bonnie-Jean, Erin, and our niece Eilley Mae seeded our tomatoes and peppers inside, using a lighted shelf our folks bought the family for Christmas. It has been years since we could garden properly, and we are all elated with anticipation.
Mom, Levi, and the kids have all continued to work on our landscaping around the bunkhouse. They've been relocating rocks left scattered by excavation to the dry creek bed at the bottom of our hill. We are hoping the rocks will help with erosion in the rare occasion of a flood. Along with moving rocks, several family members have been clearing our fence line and cleaning up around the spring, where the weeping willow we bought for our mom a couple years ago appears to be thriving.
In the bunkhouse, our progress has been frustratingly slow. We did make some progress on the drain system, but it was after several false starts where we ran into issues with weather, mud, and our tools. We finally installed the first portion of pipe on Friday, and that felt like a real victory. When we couldn't work on the plumbing, we made more progress on insulating between our rafters inside the bunkhouse.
I've thought a bit about Saint Patrick this week, as we have planned our feast day fair for Sunday -- corned beef hash for breakfast, Irish stew and soda bread for dinner. I've thought about his Lorica and how he could have written it about this place. This week, I relished the sunshine. I gazed on a picturesque moon hanging brilliant and dark in its starry field. I warmed myself beside an early morning fire. I watched lightening crack and felt the unseen strength of wind. I've knelt in the rich earth, pulling rocks so firm that they remember times long forgotten, as fossils provide a glimpse of the world when once an ocean covered this highland. God has been remaking these hills since He first spoke them into being, and one can't help feeling the breath of His words rippling through them. It makes me feel alive and hopeful, as I arise today.
