Letter from Rev. Beth
It is summer time and as such, gardens are in full bloom and imaginations of harvests to come are taking shape in flowers, buds, and little fruits on the vine. In the corner of my garden bed, I have a squash plant that is growing to an enormous size with full green leaves and yellow orange flowers. It’s beginning to encroach on my tomato plants (which are the reason why I have a garden in the first place), but I cannot help but love its absolute wild abundance and the ways it takes up space in an unabashed manner. On the opposite corner of my bed, I have little chives emerging from the soil. They are wispy, quiet, and tender and I cheer them on when I water the garden.
Watching these plants grow each day, its easy to become attached and get the heart involved. It can be like this with people too, when we are attentive to who they are and when we have had the chance to grow a relationship together over time. It is one of the reasons why I love the prayer below by UU minister Rev. Max Coots, who brings together the magic of gardens with the magic of our connections. May it bring you some delight and a reminder of the abundance you have experienced and grown in your own life.
Let Us Give Thanks
by Rev. Max Coots
Let us give thanks for a bounty of people:
For children who are our second planting, and, though they grow like
weeds and the wind too soon blows them away, may they forgive us our
cultivation and fondly remember where their roots are.
Let us give thanks:
For generous friends … with hearts as big as hubbards and smiles as
bright as their blossoms;
For feisty friends as tart as apples;
For continuous friends, who, like scallions and cucumbers, keep
reminding us we had them;
For crotchety friends, as sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;
For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and as elegant
as a row of corn–and the others–as plain as potatoes and so good for you;
For funny friends, who are as silly as Brussels sprouts and as amusing
as Jerusalem artichokes, and serious friends as complex as cauliflowers and as
intricate as onions;
For friends as unpretentious as cabbages, as subtle as summer squash,
as persistent as parsley, as delightful as dill, as endless as zucchini, and
who–like parsnips–can be counted on to see you through the winter;
For old friends, nodding like sunflowers in the evening-time, and young
friends coming on as fast as radishes;
For loving friends, who wind around us like tendrils and hold us,
despite our blights, wilts, and witherings;
And finally, for those friends now gone, like gardens past that have
been harvested–but who fed us in their times that we might have life
For all these we give thanks.
Rev. Beth Chronister