I’ve been given a small patch of garden to tend at the convent. Even though it is only a very small space I feel it might exceed my current gardening abilities. Still, I’ve always wanted to try gardening, beyond growing some tomatoes and herbs on my apartment balcony, and I’ve been granted this opportunity. Recently I planted some seeds in my garden. The seed packet said to ‘scatter the seed’ so I tried to do that as I sang to myself, “seed, scattered and sown, wheat, gathered and grown’. Lots of people talk to their plants, perhaps singing will have a positive effect!
I check in on my garden regularly like a brooding mother hen. The clover is growing strongly but apparently that’s a weed and must be pulled. The perennials planted last year, by another sister, are blooming. Paying attention to this small scrap of garden has intensified my focus on the other gardens at the convent. It feels as if the whole world is green right now, green grass, green leaves, green shoots, green weeds. Even tiny green tomatoes are showing up in the vegetable garden.
Everything looks and feels glorious, a testament to the many hours of work done by other sisters and our many volunteers. On my regular walks around the neighbourhood I am amazed at the many shades of green in the trees and bushes surrounding us. The green of the outside world seems appropriate as the Anglican Church of Canada has entered Ordinary Time, that long green season which lasts from Pentecost to Advent. We have months ahead of green both inside and out.
According to some sources this season is known as ordinary time because it comes from the Latin word
ordinal meaning counting. We count the weeks after Pentecost until the very last Sunday after Pentecost, known as the Reign of Christ, then Advent begins. Other sources suggests that ordinary may just mean, well, ordinary; regular, routine, standard, or usual.
Regardless of the explanation, from my earliest experience of ordinary time, it has always felt like a pause in the church year. We aren’t celebrating any great festivals like Christmas or Easter. We aren’t counting off days or weeks of Lent or Advent. We’ve just settled down into the everyday. It’s a time when you can catch your breath, relax into the routine, and just be.
Now that I’ve planted my seeds I have to wait. Oh, I will water and weed but mostly I just need to wait. As I wait for my seeds to sprout and grow I think of other seeds I may be planting in my own life. I think how the actions we take, the words we use, the gestures we employ, the activities which we consider worthy of our time are all seeds which we plant. An angry word or a quick smile can immediately show results. Other seeds, like mine, take longer to show results.
The discipline of silence and stillness, disciplines which are nurtured here at the convent, doesn’t immediately bear fruit. But I do believe that taking the time to be still, to sit in silence, to wait for the Spirit to move you, will bear fruit, in your life and in mine.
As you live into Ordinary Time in your own life think about attending one of our
Quiet Garden Days and experience the stillness and silence of both our beautiful gardens and our wonderful convent. A quiet garden day is an opportunity to take a break, to stop and look, to read a poem or sing quietly to yourself, to think about the seeds which need to be nurtured in your life.
Another opportunity to take a pause in your busy life is to attend
Compassionate Chair Yoga
June 5 and
June 19 at the convent.
I’ll leave you with a poem by Denise Levertov, an opportunity to be still for a few minutes of ordinary time. May the Holy Spirit move in your own life in this long green season.
Passage
The spirit that walked upon the face of the waters
walks the meadow of long grass;
green shines to silver where the spirit passes
.
Wind from the compass points, sun at meridian,
these are forms the spirit enters,
breath, ruach, light that is witness and by which we witness.
The grasses numberless, bowing and rising, silently
cry hosanna as the spirit
moves them and moves burnishing
over and again upon mountain pastures
a day of spring, a needle’s eye
space and time are passing through like a swathe of silk.
~~ by Denise Levertov
Sr. Wendy Grace Greyling
Guest House Team
