Encounter with Creation....and Community
It’s mid-February, and though the skies here in Dayton are still a faceless gray and the earth appears to be clinging to the weariness of a long, cold winter, the freshening return of life is already in motion. I was in MEEC's Nature Preserve today, hand-dispersing seeds of native grasses and wildflowers that we had collected this past fall. As I trudged atop the woodland carpet of leaves faded and softened by winter’s sleepy touch, I came upon one of our region’s more conspicuous plants fearlessly pushing itself through a lingering patch of snow from last week’s storm. ‘Wait,’ one might say, ‘I thought that plants couldn’t grow in the snow!’ Not so with this little guy. This is none other than the humbly-named skunk cabbage whose flowers and leaves (when broken) do indeed give off an unpleasant smell. But there is more to this plant than meets the eye, or should I say, the nose. As they begin to grow in late winter, skunk cabbages make use of chemical reactions in their metabolism that allow them to reach approximately 60°F even when the air and earth around them may be freezing. Very few plants are actually able to do this. The bottom line is that skunk cabbages are able to melt their way through the snow around them and flower before any other plant. Pretty cool if you ask me. Why am I sharing all of this? Because this side-story about the skunk cabbage offers a window into what I do as a PULSE volunteer at MEEC. (https://meec.center) I am immersed in the natural world around me, subject to its rhythms and whims, but enamored by its cosmic and microscopic beauty. Somehow, I feel that, having learned what I have about the skunk cabbage, I have become more connected to creation.
What was at one time one more green plant popping out of the earth (a miracle in its own) is now a unique life with its own story to tell, if we watch and listen. To me, there is something sacred in that communion. This process of intently watching, and listening patiently and quietly, has become its own spiritual metaphor for me. Of course, I didn’t learn directly from the skunk cabbage; I had to consult outside sources to gain my knowledge. But grasping the quiet miracle of the skunk cabbage melting its way through conditions that cripple most other plants is something I could do only by becoming aware of this plant. Is that not unlike many other things in life?
At MEEC, I have been learning to share my knowledge—whether it is technical information about the natural world around us, or the spiritual significance that graces all of it. I can’t honestly say that the practice of coming to a greater understanding of the skunk cabbage has provided me with insights that could make me a better community member, but I can say that the practice of slowing down, becoming present, listening and observing before trampling on or dismissing with quick assumptions has indeed made me a better community member. 
While outdoors at MEEC, quiet listening and observing tend to come naturally to me, it is not always so living in community. I have had to learn—and it has taken me months—to begin to grasp the intentional effort I need to make to listen and be patient. But just as I feel joy in learning about creation, I have also begun to feel joy in the patient listening I am learning within community.
I’ve also learned to use the same practices in my prayer. Slowing down and being patient enough to become aware of God’s love for me, and my love for God in return. I am so blessed to be in an environment where I am encouraged in this.
As Lent begins (and the PULSE community begins our Mid-Year Retreat) it is the perfect time for me to continue to reflect, enter into prayer both individually and within community. Please pray for us and, the next time you see a skunk cabbage, recall your mission and mine; that of being a disciple of Christ, like Mary, and of ‘warming up’ and sharing yourself with others.
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