This summer, I wrote about adding gardening into my routine and how it helped me feel more rested and more connected to the people I love. As the seasons change and we flip our planner pages to November (!!!), I've been reflecting on this practice that led me to deeper and richer connection.
What is it about gardening that helps me connect—with others, with myself, and with God? How can I continue a similar practice in the darker, barer winter months? What might that kind of grounding connection look like in a different season?
Before questions of what and how could swell to overwhelm, before fear and exhaustion had a chance to settle in, I turned to this prayer from Cole Arthur Riley of @blackliturgies:
These last months have been a wilderness for all of us, bringing both trial and invitation, lack and provision. This prayer was a reminder to choose hope and belief rather than fear and grumbling.
Rather than searching for a new rhythm to help cultivate connection, I wonder if there is an invitation lingering in a part of my day that I have yet to uncover. I'm keeping my eyes open and my spirit attentive to whatever it may be.
As we approach All Saints' Day, these final few weeks of Ordinary Time, the most divisive election in living memory, and a month centered around gratitude and plenty—may we trust that invitations to connect abound—and that we will not miss out on them. We can choose to accept the invitations that come our way and lean into the moments that remind us we are bound together in love.
What invitations are hiding in the overlooked nooks and crannies of your day? What practices help tether you to your neighbors?
May we recognize the invitations in our midst. May we find rest in our exhaustion, a soothing balm for our hearts and minds. May we uncover and be bound to the messages of hope and provision in our midst.