Where I live, there is no patch of green grass to lie in and look up at the sky. But that’s not the only thing that makes for a great summer day, right? Maybe it’s just an extended sense of the day, the time to enjoy your evening meal on the patio. Or there are those in our congregation who love to climb up high on a ridge and take in the expanse of the great world, others who dive down deep into the ocean to discover the wet part of the globe. I like to have time to wander the farmer’s market, to watch the fireworks after the baseball game, and to take a trip to be a fan at my daughter’s dance competition.
Summer feels like a time where struggles and difficulty shouldn’t exist, although we know that’s not the case. There is still illness and loss, stress and intense work, and days that are much more filled than to allow an hour in the grass. But I hope you will make time—and yes, sometimes you must insist on relaxation as a priority—I hope you will carve out time for blessed summer enjoyment. In a sense, it is a place to pray, a place to find your most intimate self. (See poem below.)
Love,
Katie
The Summer Day
Mary Oliver
Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?