Waste Not, Want Not

In this, the last week of the church’s recognition of the Season of Creation, we’ve been having a discussion about the impacts that humanity has had on the planet (not so good) and the potential impacts we can have in the future (full of hope!)

 

One of the topics raised last week was the adage we all learned some decades ago: reduce, reuse, recycle.

 

It’s a great mantra; yet we often overlook the importance of the order of this. Our first call is to reduce our consumption, then reuse what we already have, and utilize recycling as a last resort. Too often, we shed our awareness and responsibility by simply filling up our blue bins, where they can be taken away and (hopefully) recycled.

 

Part of our call to reduce our consumption is a chance to be financially frugal, which will likely also lead to a reduction in waste. One of the areas I focus on is in food waste: fo9r wasting food is wasting money, and wasting the planet.

 

Yes, I’m *that* person, who saves the end cuts of vegetables in a bag in the freezer, until I can boil them into a stock; I look for creative recipes for the food that I have. Sometimes this can be a wonderful success; sometimes I learn that I won’t be doing that recipe again!

 

This week, I’m looking forward to trying some new recipes from parts that, in the past, I may have just dropped in the stock-making bag (or directly into the composter!) I was gifted some beet leaves, so am eager to try a dal recipe. The carrots I mentioned in last week’s blog have been harvested, and… well, to call them tiny would be a compliment; but the greens have been washed and stripped and are ready for the pesto making!

 

I appreciate that not everyone enjoys cooking, or experimenting, but for me it’s one way to deepen my appreciation for, and engagement with, God’s creation. There is much to be thankful for, even in unexpected places. The goodness is literally coming up from the ground, and we are being invited to be creative in celebrating our local bounty.

All while respecting the earth, and decreasing our waste – thus celebrating all that God provides. 

Carrots! And Ephesians!

As the temperatures are cooling, and the threat of frost increases, I’ve been slowly transitioning my little garden pots. The peas and beans came out last week, and this week my sights were set on the chard. (I’m holding out hope for the squash to keep growing!)

Interestingly, when I was planting the seeds into my planters last spring, I had an ‘ooops’ moment and accidentally dropped some carrot seeds into the chard pot. So, as the summer progressed, I watched carrot greens arise with enthusiasm, knowing that there would not likely be any carrots (the pots are small, the chard leaves block the sun, etc.). But I left them where they were, so as to provide ample carrot greens for some autumnal treat (apparently carrot green pesto is yummy; I’ll let you know!)

This week, assessing the chard, I noticed a spot of colour that didn’t quite belong. On closer inspection, it turns out I do have some very keen and determined carrots trying to grow. I was seeing their little orangey-brown tops starting to pop through the soil, desperate for some sunshine.

It got me thinking about the act of growing carrots. We drop a few seeds in, and nature does its thing under the soil beyond our sight, and some time later we rip those roots out of the earth and enjoy them.

Carrots are both rooted and grounded; they have the root tendrils that reach through the varying layers of soil, transporting nutrients and water to the root vegetable, thus enabling growth. And they are grounded, as their development takes place within a sturdy environment, the flexible greens being the only thing above the soil until the plant is ready to emerge into our sight. Even then, carrots can be quite solidly situated within that soil.

As our mid-week worship heard the lesson this week from Ephesians 3.17 (…that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love) I pondered about those carrots. Rooted, grounded, and emerging at their own pace. We too, through our faith, find ourself rooted (receiving the nourishment of Christ) and grounded (with a firm foundation of faith).

And, like those hiding little carrots, we too emerge into the world to live the life of those who are beloved; who have been blessed and can be a blessing.

NOT one more chapter...

Normally, I am a voracious reader. Novels, mysteries, history, theology: I can happily go through 10 books a month; and usually with more than one on the go at any given time. My TBR (to-be-read) shelf is of decent size, as is my ‘on hold’ list at the library.

My current before-bed read has been a change of pace – literally. It’s an engaging story that I want to finish in one sitting; yet it is so well crafted and creative that I want to savour it. I find myself reading no more than a few chapters each night, so I can make it last.

In doing so, I find I’m reading it with a different focus, considering multiple angles and perspectives as each section unfolds. I’m spending more time wondering what the characters are feeling, how they might interact, how their pasts are influencing their present, etc.

Perhaps this exact practice is why we have our scriptural narratives shared in small portions for our daily and weekly lections; not just so we can accomplish our liturgical journey through the bible every three years, but so that we can spend time in reflection, contemplation, and meditation. Each passage has something to reveal to us; even when we don’t understand it, even when we’re wanting to skip to the next action-based part, even when we can’t quite remember all the nuance of the last bit.

The scriptures are meant to engage us in all aspects of our lives; and with too much all at one we may be overly challenged and instead give up.

But with just the right amount, we can find ways to apply the lessons of each section to our lives: bringing us enjoyment, learning, and opportunity for ministry.

Bless This Mess - the Season of Creation

Today starts the “Season of Creation” in the church; not as a distinct liturgical season, but a time to intentionally focus on the relationship that we have with God’s creation.

And it’s easy on the beautiful days, when the sun is shining and the pollinators are zooming between gorgeous blooms. Yet it can do us good to recall that not all aspects of nature are those picture-perfect moments; be it the dirt (in which the decomposed plant matter nourishes today’s flowers) or the unpleasant mosquitos that play a role in the ecosystem… there’s any number of examples of the enjoyable aspects of nature, and the less-than-desirable parts as well.

Yet in the mess, there’s grace. In the dirt, or river-side muck, or slippery eels, or pervasive weeds - whatever is distasteful to us is still a part of God’s creation. And thus: we are given the chance to see the grace, the goodness, the divine.

It can be difficult, as we are not going to like everything in nature. We are going to find certain aspects of the created order unpleasant and prefer to avoid them. We as humanity have tried to subdue nature, to overpower it, to deny its fullness; and in doing so have distanced ourselves from the creation (and from the Creator).

So we are reminded that we are still called to love all of creation: to find ways to interconnect, to collaborate, to share in this expression of divine love. For every organism here has as much value as we do; we are all striving to find out place and space, in ways that allow us to flourish without encroaching on others. God didn’t create mistakes.

The trouble comes when we situate ourselves as better than others, as above the mess; instead of acknowledging that we too can be messy. It’s a humble stance to learn, to shed the ubiquitous sense that we are the top of all beings; yet this season invites us to do just that.

So in this season of creation, as our churches remind us of the need to focus on the beauty of creation and a role within it, let’s not forget the messes. For God’s blessings are there too.