I don’t know about you, but I always feel like my life speeds up in the late spring, as though I’m barrelling towards the summer with no breaking mechanism. I don’t want to waste the first warm and sunny days, these blessed late sunsets, so I pack them in with walks, picnics, dinners on patios, and outdoor festivals. My calendar begins filling up with summer travel and concerts. And the church year gets especially busy, celebrating everything we’ve accomplished this past year and planning for the year ahead. We’ve been training new lay ministers, enjoying the last Alliance luncheon of the year, working on the 2024-2025 calendar, bidding on auction items, and planning end-of-the-year get-togethers. It’s fun but exhausting. I don’t always make the time to catch my breath, reset, and think about what’s most important. 

But this past Monday, I took the time to go on a long hike with a dear mentor and friend who was in town. It was 50 degrees and drizzling when we left Portland, but as we got closer to the trailhead, the rain started coming down harder and then, to our astonishment, turned to snow. We were woefully unprepared for the weather and had to find a general store that sold winter hats. By the time we started hiking, the spring forest had become a winter wonderland. We walked through it slowly, trying not to lose our footing, helping each other across slippery stream crossings and exclaiming through laughter, “I can’t believe it’s snowing!” But by the time we reached the lookout and turned around, hiking back down into the old-growth forest, the snow had melted. Everything was green, and the wildflowers were once again visible. There was little evidence the unexpected winter blast had even happened. It was as though, for just one brief moment, winter had broken through the riot of spring to slow us down. Each falling flake was a reminder to tread carefully on this sacred ground, to take time to focus on nurturing relationships and building trust, and to resist urgency and delight in the unexpected. It was a magical gift. One I had done nothing to earn and didn’t even know I needed until it found me.

This Sunday, Rev. Alison will introduce our May theme, “Grace.” I love the word. It’s even my starting word on Wordle! It’s usually defined as an unmerited divine favor; in many Christian traditions, it is the key to salvation. I love the “unmerited gift” part, but get more hung up on the salvation part. It’s not that I don’t think we are in need of salvation, but like a good Unitarian, I usually think we have to create it on our own. But that hike reminded me that, more often than I’d like to admit, we need help from something far bigger than ourselves, like the grace of an unexpected snowfall. Look, James Pearson writes, at how the world is, once again, trying to save me. 

I hope you find the time this week to resist spring’s urgency, slow down, take a deep breath, and delight in whatever unexpected gift the universe sees fit to rain (or snow) upon you.

May grace and peace be yours in abundance,

Danielle 

How can I love this spring
when it’s pulling me
through my life faster
than any time before it?
When five separate dooms
are promised this decade
and here I am, just trying
to watch a bumblebee cling
to its first purple flower.
I cannot save this world.
But look how it’s trying,
once again, to save me.

The Spring
By James A. Pearson