When I walk through the woods,
I am always amazed at the wreckage I find there;
trees uprooted, branches down;
clutter and garbage and trails half cut.
Some of this is natural —
some has an external source
but I am teaching myself to see each disturbance
as potential habitat.
Not for me – I’m far to practical
to want to live in the bush
under the roots of a long dead tree –
but for all the things whose tracks lead me to believe
that the forest teems with life.
It makes me think differently of the wreckage of our lives –
some of it natural;
death, disease and the fickle nature of relationship –
some has an external source –
but I believe that each disaster
creates a kind of habitation within us;
a habitat for hope.
Thus far, such pithy sentiment
has much to recommend it.
It reads like something you would find
in a really expensive Hallmark card© –
and if I, in my capacity
as minister of Word and Sacrament
were to use this illustration
in a funeral meditation,
or on a Sunday morning,
many in the congregation
would nod and smile.
But somewhere, someone would –
with nothing but good intentions –
want to know how I came to this conclusion.
How can hope be born of disaster?
What Scripture proves your point?
But my point is not to be proven.
Empirical data is a luxury
not many can afford.
The truth of hope
from hellish circumstance
is one that must be seen (and felt)
and lived to be believed
Just as the truth of scripture
can be found in real life truths,
confirmed only by our experiencing them.
J R Lackie
February 3, 2010 – Thorburn, NS