By Rev. Kurt Condra
Spring fever -- that restless desire for winter's end -- seems more palpably urgent this year than any in memory. As we queue up for vaccinations, there's so much we wish were behind us already: from the pandemic and power outages in Texas, to injustice and division.
For many, this yearning for the promised land of New Normal, takes a toll on our spiritual and self-care practices: Prayer and meditation get spotty. Healthy foods get supplanted. (I just inhaled a Costco-size bag of Fritos in under 48 hours.) Sleep patterns get disrupted; and exercise gets usurped by soul-sucking addictions and behaviors.
Of course, the remedy for recovery is re-grounding oneself in awareness of the Divine.
One mighty force for re-grounding is nature. Today, I ventured out. Tromping over lakeside trails under sunny skies, I marveled at how quickly waist-high drifts were melting into sloppy slushy estuaries. I splashed through block-long puddles watching the blue-blue sky reflected in shimmery ripples. I crunched across the ice-glazed shoreline wondering if the mini-icebergs pushed ashore by Lake Michigan over a few days are a microcosm of planetary forces that shape continents over millennia.
If we but have eyes to see, the natural world can remind us that all human drama is temporal; that the transcendent force which generates weather patterns and orders creation is the same force that harmonizes all of life; and that if we're grateful -- rain or shine, slush or snow -- the immense power of God's presence is ours to claim.