(Formerly
Sara Moores Campbell)
"The journey into
wilderness reminds us that we are alone and not alone. We are neither where we
have been nor where we are going. There is danger and possibility, risk and
promise."
Into the Wilderness invites
the reader into an intimate world of personal revelation, a world in which
truth appears unannounced--in a box of Girl Scout cookies, during an overseas
phone call, in a Navajo rug.
Here are forty
reflections--some funny, some rueful, others gently wise--for meditation or
personal contemplation.
Excerpts from Into the
Wilderness (copyright 2000 by Sarah York):
Window or Aisle
“Window or aisle?” the man at the counter
asked as I prepared to board the plane for Detroit.
No matter how often I fly, I always pause
to make the choice: To take a window seat means being able to get a God’s eye
view of earth. But what if I want to go to the restroom? It’s such a bother to
have to ask people to move. And I don’t like feeling trapped.
My answer is always the same: “Window.” To
choose the window is to choose to see. Whether I am identifying a river or
marveling at the play of moonlight on the ocean; whether the view is a
patchwork of planted fields, a city showing off its neon finery, or a comforter
of clouds, I am filled with a deep sense of awe. Sometimes, as the plane moves
through a storm, breaking through the clouds and into the sun, my own spirit
opens up to invite in the expanse of beauty. There is always something to
see—always something I have never seen before.
Knowing that to choose the window is an
invitation to beauty, awe, and wonder—that it is even an opportunity to break
through the cloudiness of my own spirit—why do I always pause to make the
decision? Each time we get a seat on a plane we are invited to choose to be
touched by the world or to remain complacent and take it for granted. We are
invited to choose beauty or fear, vision or convenience. Each day of our lives,
in fact, we are given the choice, “Window or aisle?” Something inside me will
always pause before I choose … but I think I’ll take the window.
The Growing Season
“I am not religious,” says my neighbor, as
he hoes the rows between his beans and corn.
“Oh yes, you are,” I say to
myself.
To plant a seed is an act of faith.
To collect compost is a response of
gratitude to the creator.
To water, fertilize, and mulch the ground
is an expression of religious responsibility.
To kneel down and pull weeds is a prayer.
To harvest is to participate in the
fullness and grace of the spirit.
To protect and replenish creation is to
love God.
“I am not religious,” says my neighbor.
Yes you are, I say.
A review of Into the Wilderness by The
Reverend Forrest Church.
...Here Sarah York, one
of our most thoughtful and capable ministers, strikes a nice balance- between
her own life's story and that of the ancient text. Every piece invites
further meditation and two, one personal ("What are you saving it
for?") and one traditional ("Good Friday"), are well worth the
price of admission.
The
Apollo Ranch Institute Press (Apollo Academy)
