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Winter is here and
life on McNutt’s
Island secures shelter for itself.
A walk into the woods reveals places where the dry
brown ferns have been tamped down to form nests. I am
not sure whether it is the sheep or deer who do this. Whoever
it is, they are careful to choose locations surrounded
by fallen spruce or clumps of bayberry against the cold
and wind. I have taken a moment to sit in the middle
of these. They are comfortable and well insulated.
The squirrels are settling down for the winter inside
our apple trees. Recently as I was cutting up a
pile of fallen apple branches, I heard echoes
of sharp retort reverberating from within one of the
orchard trees. I located the sound coming from
a large limb. As I stood below it looking up with
curiosity, a squirrel popped her head out of a hole in
the limb, looking sternly down upon me, indignant to
my eavesdropping. “Go away!” her stare
told me. I went back to my pile of branches.
The grey, lichen-covered stone walls surrounding our
property seem at first glance alone and abandoned, but
upon closer inspection, are a bustle of activity. Moles
and deer mice dart to and from them. Squirrels
race along their pinnacles like cars teetering on a superhighway. Birds
nestle in their nooks and crannies. One can only
imagine what goes on deep inside.
Beyond the walls, the mink search out caverns beneath
large spruce or within dense shrub. Once, when
I let grow a pile of branches in my efforts to clear
away overgrown spruce, a mink family took full advantage
of my neglect and moved in.
Our house is equally attractive. It is the only
dwelling on the island that is occupied year-round. It
welcomes all manner of living things as winter draws
near. The area snakes have availed themselves
of its dirt-floored crawl space, already slumbering peacefully
until next spring. Knowing this, the mice and shrews
tip-toe lightly around them, also happy to be warm and
snug for the winter, even as they dare not venture upstairs
where traps await. There is no telling the diversity
of critters that live beneath our floor boards, and I
am happy not to pry.
The pursuit of shelter, it would seem, drives all living
things. It is the thrust of our very own Christmas
story, in which a young and very pregnant couple seeks
shelter, having to settle for less desirable accommodations
among the animals on the edge of town. We remember
them as we place manger scenes on our front lawns and
in our town squares. More than that, we remember
the God who guided them, along with shepherds and kings,
through that eventful night. Little did they know
what that night would set into motion – a child
born, a world of power turned on its head where the lowly
are lifted up and the mighty brought low, God- with-us
offering shelter against all odds.
Our scurrying and slithering friends
on McNutt’s
also belong to this story, as do all of us. They
are trying to survive the impending winter days here. They
accommodate each other in the task. True to the promise,
God grants them shelter, a place in the order of things. And
I live in their midst, humbled and inspired by their
effort, grateful for this world in which, thanks be
to God, all have a place to call home.
Rev. Greg Brown
Executive and Life Coach
greg@gregbrownonline.com |
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