A prayer for rain

We've been away since July 1st, and in that time we have been following the situation in BC's interior with increasing concern. The smoke from the forest fires that are threatening communities in the Cariboo region is drifting across the western provinces now, and there's an out-of-control blaze near Banff, reminding us that all is definitely not well with our environment if large swathes of forest are burning and adding greenhouse gases to our planet's already overburdened atmosphere. And for most of us, there's nothing we can do about it, really, except pray for those most affected by the fires, for the fire crews, and for our earth as a whole.

So I offer, once again, a prayer for rain:

Blessed rain

I was ready to whip out the Charlotte Diamond CD my kids listened to when they were little... "I'm ready for, you're ready for, we're ready for... the puddles!" The rain this morning was so beautiful! Our rain barrels are full, things are popping out of the soil, and the robins are singing. My daughters went out and danced in the rain last night. I said many, "Thank You"s to God. Nothing like God watering everything instead of my garden hose -- her and his watering is so much more thorough! And the water isn't chlorinated.

I don't want to seem ungrateful, but we could use more. Suzanna and I took a walk at noon to take puddle pictures, and there were hardly any puddles to be found. The ground is so dry, it soaked everything up already. And up north, where wildfires are raging, they're praying for the snow that's blanketing the western part of the province.

So if you have a spare prayer, please keep me company in praying for the firefighters who have been going steady since May 1st, and for the families who are waiting to return home to Fort McMurray.

Thank you God, for the rain you've given. Please send more to the places that need it most.

+Amen.

Sunday reflection: Not your usual week

Apologies to my Sunday Reflections readers, but it's been a week where I managed to read paragraphs 189-193 of the Pope's encyclical with highlighter in hand... but that was all. It has been a very warm week, one that has gardeners (like me) getting into the dirt. I spent this afternoon digging weeds, watering trees, and waking up my compost piles instead of moodling about Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home, and now I can barely keep my eyes open.

It's been an odd week here for the beginning of May, not only weather-wise, but because my radio station -- the usual way I get news because we don't have TV -- has been taken over by Fort McMurray wildfire coverage. Edmonton is the city closest to Fort Mac, and we've been inundated with donation and volunteering requests, stories of fleeing families and lost homes, and endless news reports on the latest wildfire information. My cousin and her family are safe, but there are many who are still trying to protect neighbourhoods that haven't been destroyed, though it's tough to do much more than that in the face of the inferno that is the wildfire. Suddenly, I am understanding ancient stories about fire-breathing dragons in a new way.

So I'll forego my Sunday reflection due to sun tiredness and grief for the folks who have lost their homes -- and because it's Mother's Day weekend, and I don't want to spend Mother's Day at my computer. Pope Francis' letter to the world seems even more important as we see so many climate refugees coming from Fort McMurray to Edmonton... but the encyclical will be there next week, too. In the meantime, perhaps we can look back at some of the challenges Laudato Si has offered thus far, and do our best to live in harmony with our sister, Mother Earth.

The thing that strikes me this week is how tenuous life is -- we have had such a long period of peace and prosperity here in Canada that when something like this wildfire happens, we are in surprise and shock. But our brothers and sisters all over the globe who have been through all sorts of natural and human-made disasters understand better than we, perhaps, that few things in life are permanent, and that grace abounds even in times of trouble.

Enough about that. Happy Mother's Day to all Moms, Grandmas, Godmothers, and mothering souls who might not have their own children, but who care for young ones regardless. God bless us all, and I'll say it one more time: God, please send a good, soaking rain to Western Canada and other dry, dry places. That would be the best Mother's Day gift of all.

Another prayer for rain

Worried

I was going to post some gorgeous pictures of this morning's blossom-filled walk, but instead I'm praying for Fort McMurray, Red-Earth Creek, High Level, and any other place under threat of fire. If you are someone who prays, please pray with me.

God of everything,
we probably deserve everything that we get
when it comes to
the disastrous effects of climate change,
simply because
we've disrespected your wondrous creation.
But you're not a god of vengeance.
It's probably more heart-breaking for you to watch fires ripping through forests and fields,
blackening the earth,
heating the atmosphere further,
and destroying the homes and livelihoods
of so much wildlife and so many people.
After all, you made it all.

Please, God, please, send Alberta rain.
Help us to know that all you have given cannot be taken for granted,
but must be treated as precious gift.
Show us how to live more lightly on your earth,
and make us generous in sharing what we have
with those who are losing so much.
Bless all those who are fighting the fires
and keep everyone safe.

I know that this prayer is too little, too late,
but please hear me
and send us a good, soaking rain...

+AMEN

P.S. My cousin and her family are safe at the Syncrude camp near Fort McMurray. No word yet on whether their home was spared by the wildfires.