Too Little. Too Much.
Too little. Too much. Too early. Too late.
In the past three weeks we've had sixteen Red Flag Warnings or Fire Weather Watch days--and there's another Red Flag Warning for tomorrow. The combination of too little rain and too much wind make for dangerously dry conditions here is SW Colorado.
Today I watched on the news as a major earthen dam in Michigan was breached and collapsed under the weight of too much rainwater in the Tittabawasee River. There were two collapsed dams actually. Enough water to leave the town of Midland, MI, under nine feet of water.
It's hard for us
desert-dwellers to imagine that much water, all in one place at one time. The words "water" and "too much" don't usually combine in our daily language--except when we complain about our neighbors breaking the water conservation rules. "They are using way too much water on their lawn--and at the wrong time of day, too!" I'm pretty sure that this idea works in reverse also. I'm sure the folks under water in Michigan simply can't imagine a land as bone dry and fire-dangerous as ours.
Existential threats are all around us all the time. We're just more familiar with some of them. We in the Southwest are very aware of fire danger. Other places worry about flooding. Still others are focused on high crime levels. All of us are aware that there are always threats to our lives and safety and comfort. I think the difference right now is that this coronavirus threat is a new one--and it's a threat to everyone at the same time. We may worry about our health from time to time, but we rarely all face the same health threat at the same time.
The early rallying cry in this pandemic was "We're All In This Together!" As the days and weeks roll on, "we're all in this together" starts to sound more like a threat than a comfort. We now know that this will not pass quickly. We know that the most vulnerable people are our elders who mean so much to us. And we know that for many people, patience is not just wearing thin--it's gone altogether.
So how do we keep going? How do we stay motivated to care for one another? How do we live with an anxiety that we don't see abating anytime soon? As my phone dings every day with a new Fire Warning, as I watch dams and bridges and homes disappear under the force of water, I know at least one thing is true. We ARE in this together. Not just the fire and water, not just the coronavirus pandemic--but also the beauty and fragility of life all around us. Oren Lyons, Faithkeeper of the Turtle Clan of the Onondaga and Seneca Nations writes: "All things are bound together, all things connect. Whatever befalls the earth, befalls also the children of the earth." We are all indeed in this together--and in our care for ourselves, one another and our world, we find our strength.
Psalm 23
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death--You, God, are with me. You guide me and bring me comfort, even in the face of my enemies (whether the enemy is water or fire or disease or isolation fatigue...)
Prayer Requests: for those whose homes have been flooded; for those who live in fear--that they may feel God's reassurance.
Memorial Day Weekend: You are invited to bring flowers to Sunday worship to honor those whom you are remembering this Memorial Day. Please place them on the cement benches in front of the church, and bring your own vases or containers. We will, of course, be holding parking lot worship at 10am.
Peace and all good,
Pastor Jean
In the past three weeks we've had sixteen Red Flag Warnings or Fire Weather Watch days--and there's another Red Flag Warning for tomorrow. The combination of too little rain and too much wind make for dangerously dry conditions here is SW Colorado.
Today I watched on the news as a major earthen dam in Michigan was breached and collapsed under the weight of too much rainwater in the Tittabawasee River. There were two collapsed dams actually. Enough water to leave the town of Midland, MI, under nine feet of water.
It's hard for us
desert-dwellers to imagine that much water, all in one place at one time. The words "water" and "too much" don't usually combine in our daily language--except when we complain about our neighbors breaking the water conservation rules. "They are using way too much water on their lawn--and at the wrong time of day, too!" I'm pretty sure that this idea works in reverse also. I'm sure the folks under water in Michigan simply can't imagine a land as bone dry and fire-dangerous as ours.
Existential threats are all around us all the time. We're just more familiar with some of them. We in the Southwest are very aware of fire danger. Other places worry about flooding. Still others are focused on high crime levels. All of us are aware that there are always threats to our lives and safety and comfort. I think the difference right now is that this coronavirus threat is a new one--and it's a threat to everyone at the same time. We may worry about our health from time to time, but we rarely all face the same health threat at the same time.
The early rallying cry in this pandemic was "We're All In This Together!" As the days and weeks roll on, "we're all in this together" starts to sound more like a threat than a comfort. We now know that this will not pass quickly. We know that the most vulnerable people are our elders who mean so much to us. And we know that for many people, patience is not just wearing thin--it's gone altogether.
So how do we keep going? How do we stay motivated to care for one another? How do we live with an anxiety that we don't see abating anytime soon? As my phone dings every day with a new Fire Warning, as I watch dams and bridges and homes disappear under the force of water, I know at least one thing is true. We ARE in this together. Not just the fire and water, not just the coronavirus pandemic--but also the beauty and fragility of life all around us. Oren Lyons, Faithkeeper of the Turtle Clan of the Onondaga and Seneca Nations writes: "All things are bound together, all things connect. Whatever befalls the earth, befalls also the children of the earth." We are all indeed in this together--and in our care for ourselves, one another and our world, we find our strength.
Psalm 23
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death--You, God, are with me. You guide me and bring me comfort, even in the face of my enemies (whether the enemy is water or fire or disease or isolation fatigue...)
Prayer Requests: for those whose homes have been flooded; for those who live in fear--that they may feel God's reassurance.
Memorial Day Weekend: You are invited to bring flowers to Sunday worship to honor those whom you are remembering this Memorial Day. Please place them on the cement benches in front of the church, and bring your own vases or containers. We will, of course, be holding parking lot worship at 10am.
Peace and all good,
Pastor Jean
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