September 16

Toward the lake singing our prayers walking with the changes of the land after the storm God’s tracks.
like the claw marks of the mountain lion sweeping the debris and remains of a once quiet land

The air, warm and welcoming as we descend toward the lake leaving the rugged cold mountains the low lands call us kin we haven’t seen in so long,

Saskatoon, elderberry, alder, and maple

Open dry lands greeting us again...

bodies tired as heavy woven packs press against us

The lake pulls us forward, clouds begin to thicken on the horizon and the rains fill the lake.

Storm approaching.

Fear tightening stomach and chest like the silent rattlesnakes who lay quiet across our path, delicate lives, held in the hands of this creation..

We carry a coal held in the clay pot that we have been tending like the most beautiful baby bird and looking up into this ancient place in the rocky hillside our eyes meet the sacred womb of our mother and we place the fire we’ve been holding in her rocky center.

We let this place hold us-rest on sheepskins, eat pemmican, watch the sun’s light and the rain falling gently around us..

we ask, did the skies and rocks feel our tired exhaustion, and whisper to each other, giving us a gift so we could rest our weary bones we sing our thanksgiving gently held by creation trust growing communing with God.

— Daniella