Happy Anniversary X 4

April 10, 2024 Molly Davis

On April 11, 2020, we took our first hike up a nearby logging road. In the midst of the early days of the pandemic, we needed exercise that didn’t require a gym or Peloton, and, we needed fresh air. That 1.7 mile trek, with a 1000’ of elevation gain, checked all of the boxes.

At first, it was simply a way to stay healthy and strong, and we made a commitment to do it whether we felt like it or not.

At first, it was just a logging road, used by county utility workers, ranchers on the look out for free range cattle, hunters, and us.

At first, it was just something we did because we’d decided to do it.

Today, April 11, 2024, four years to the day since that first trip up, and with over 350 trips behind us, the logging road has shown herself to be holy ground, quietly supporting us as we make our way up and back, up and back, up and back. The trees—fir, pine, oak—the wildlife—deer, elk, turkeys, jays, squirrels, hares, coyotes, raptors, bears—all remind us that we are never alone, but surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Four years later, we wouldn’t miss it. That road has kept her promise to help us stay healthy and strong.

Four years later, hers is a sacred path we are privileged to walk.

Four years later, we do it because we can’t imagine not.

Delight

June 9, 2023 Molly Davis

God looked over everything God had made;
it was so good, so very good!
It was evening, it was morning—
Day Six.

Genesis 1:31

I’ve always loved the biblical story of creation. Not because it is literally true, but because of the much deeper truth contained in that story. It says, in no uncertain terms, that this is a good place. So good in fact, that gazing out over all that She had made, God declared it not just good, but very good.

In other words, God was delighted, and wants us to be too. Delight is woven into the fabric of the world as a reminder that we live in a very good place. Moments of delight await us if we but keep our wits about us.

Take this past Wednesday for example. On my way back from an appointment I heard my inner marching orders. Get thee to the Goodwill. Now, finding a parking place in Hood River, Oregon at the start of the tourist season can be a miracle in itself, and after a couple of laps around the block I was tempted to forget it and head back home.

Get thee to the Goodwill.

Alright already, I hear you.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My favorite hiking boots—ever—are my Lowa Renegades. They are nothing short of a match made in heaven, so shelling out the $250 for them at REI a few years ago wasn’t an act of faith, it was a no-brainer. Recently I’ve been thinking about purchasing another pair before they are discontinued. I want to be as well equipped for the trail for as long as I can before it’s time for me to exit stage left. However, seeing as how the stock market ain’t what it’s been the last few years, I decided that fiscal prudence was the better policy.

Back to the Goodwill.

Car finally parked, I headed up the block. Walking through the door I was on the lookout for whatever it was that I was there for. Rounding a corner, nestled on a rack, was a brand new pair of Lowa Renegades. A perfect pair. Of my favorite boots. In my size. It was also Elder Appreciation Day which meant that with my ten percent discount, I’m delighted to say, they were only $44.99.

Now I know that one girl’s delight can be another man’s dismay. Walking through the doors of a thrift shop might not ring your chimes, but something will. Be on the lookout for it. Watch for it. Listen for it.

If we keep our wits about us, moments of delight will appear on our path to remind us that despite any evidence to the contrary—and there’s plenty—we are part of a world that isn’t just good. It is very good.

Let’s delight in that.

The Sound Of Silence

May 7, 2020 Molly Davis

Silence.

It has been one of the most profound markers of this global pandemic. Not simply the lack of surface noise, but the presence of a deep quiet. It is, as many have noted, as if the Earth is catching her breath. Not gasping for air, but quietly inhaling and exhaling in the way one does when in a deep and restful sleep.

It is as if silence is the container in which creation is meant to reside, and it must have been here all along, as in forever. But it took the absence of manmade sound for it to quietly slip into my awareness. In just 6 short weeks I have come to depend upon the presence of this ancient silence. It has permeated my interior landscape and quieted my inner thoughts, and I never want to lose it again.

This morning, for the first time in many weeks, that deep silence was broken. Shortly after sunrise the sounds of big equipment rang across the valley. Someone, somewhere nearby, was dropping trees and moving dirt, the sound of human voices raised above the mechanical din, and try as I might, I could no longer locate the silence. It has been punctured by the sounds of people engaged in work that must have felt important to them, and yet in that moment I was filled with the kind of sadness that accompanies the loss of someone or something precious.

It was grief, pure and simple. The silence was gone.

It was tempting to place blame on those doing the work, or find fault with the people pushing to lift the restrictions meant to safeguard us too quickly. Doing so would have felt far better than sitting with the sadness. However, as the equipment continued to do what it was doing, I tried to let that sadness do what it was doing. As painful as it is, our sadness always points us toward something we hold dear.

Even as I understand that we must carefully begin to emerge from this time of quarantine and sheltering-in-place, I am deeply afraid of losing what has been gained during this time of mutual sacrifice for the common good. Of forgetting what has been remembered, and of discarding what has been discovered. Silence is one such thing.

Whatever work was being done just beyond the trees surrounding our property came to an end. The sound of heavy equipment and the people operating it stopped, and there it was. The deep silence, that container within which we all reside, was still there. And it always will be. If I lose touch with it again, there is no one to blame but me.

Sunday School

May 26, 2019 Molly Davis

God saw everything that God had made, and indeed, it was very good.

Genesis 1:31

In the biblical story, the world was created a day at a time, each day bringing more and more of the world into being. At the end of the day, the great Creator looked out over that which had been made and saw that it was good.

On the sixth day, in which all living creatures that dwell on the earth were brought forth, God went one step further and created humankind in God’s own image, giving to us stewardship of all that had been created. At the end of that day, the great Creator didn’t simply call what had been made good…but very good.

On the seventh day, there was no more to do. The Creator’s work was finished and that day was declared a day of rest. A holy day of rest.

Made in the image of the Creator, when we choose to live as a reflection of that from which we came, to be good stewards of all that has been entrusted to us, at the end of the day we will be able to look out over what we have done, and see that it is good.

Every now and then, we can even see that is very good.

And when we’ve given all we have to that which is ours to do, we can take time to rest, knowing that to rest is holy.

Amen.

Let it be so.

Sabbath

April 27, 2019 Molly Davis

Because of our desire to succeed, to meet these ever growing expectations, we do not rest. Because we do not rest, we lose our way. … And for want of rest, our lives are in danger.

Wayne Muller

Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight In Our Busy Lives

In the biblical story of creation, after 6 days of work bringing the world into being, God rested, calling the seventh day a holy day. Even the creator craved and needed rest, and had the wisdom to not only take a day off, but to proclaim it holy to do so. As it was in the beginning, is now and every shall be. Every day, with every thought, and every word, and every choice, and every action, we participate in the ongoing process of creation, and I for one do a better job of helping to create a better world when I have the wisdom to take a day off, and to remind myself that it is holy to do so.

The world doesn’t happen to us, it happens through us.

God's Idea

October 21, 2018 Molly Davis

“You are exactly what God had in mind when He made you.”

Gregory Boyle S.J.

It’s Sunday, and God and I decided to stay home from church. It is a glorious day outside, and although I love our church, there are days, like today, that I need to engage with the Holy right where I am.

Every morning I start the day with my morning practice of morning coffee, morning reading, and morning meditation. Except on the days I don’t. On those days, I try to remember all of the other days that I do practice.

However.

It can be so easy to forget what we do, and get lost in judgement about what we don’t. (Just FYI, I never go without my morning coffee.)

My current morning book is Barking To the Choir by Gregory Boyle, founder and Director of Homeboy Industries, the largest gang intervention, rehab and reentry program in the world. My last morning book was his too (Tattoos On The Heart), so I guess I’m kind of crazy about him these days. His work, his wisdom, his wit, and his words. In his work with gang members, he reminds them over and over again that they are exactly who God had in mind. They’ve just forgotten, or never knew it in the first place.

“You are exactly what God had in mind…”

Reminding them of this truth opens the door for them to live into it.

When I first came across those words they nearly jumped off the page. Landing squarely in my heart with the ring of Truth, they’ve continued to echo inside, the words bouncing off the walls of my inner canyons, and returning to my ears again, and again, and again.