t seems like so long ago when we gathered on an November afternoon in 2016 when the Rev. Wendy McNiven led us through a start-up workshop. These are typically workshops that are offered to congregations who are starting anew with a minister. At that workshop we shared our hopes and fears for what this ministry might look like as we bravely moved forward together.

Adams thought that church is the place where you get to practice what it means to be a human being. Church is the place where you bring your whole self to bear – the good, the bad, the beautiful, and yes … even the ugly.

The month of April gets its name from the goddess Aprilis, the Roman’s version of the goddess Aphrodite. The name quite literally means “to open,” which is exactly what this month is all about – we are invited to open to new paths of life that encourage us to grow into the fullness of who we are at this moment in time.

It seems as if winter is hanging on as long as it can. As I write my monthly column to you, dear people of South Fraser Unitarians, the snow is falling thickly, and appointments are being postponed. While many of you know that snow is not my favourite part of the winter, it is in small moments like this that I feel the world takes a pause. It pauses for just a moment between the outbreath and inbreath. Ready, empty, and waiting for the next inbreath filled with joy and possibility.

Trees. I’m thinking a lot about trees these days. I just finished reading Finding the Mother Tree by Suzanne Simard. It’s a fascinating read about the complex and interdependent circle of life that exists right beneath our feet. In the telling of the story of her life, she illustrates just how deep this interconnection runs. paralleling the role of the Mother Tree in nurturing the forest with the role of how families and communities nurture us as human beings.

Even though it’s only been a couple of weeks since the Winter Solstice, I can feel the light returning to my world already! For me, I notice the light returning after the celebration of the new year. It’s like there’s an explosion of light and energy that happens on that evening, and slowly, I begin to return to the world of form, of schedules, of doing.

As the yearly wheel brings us to the month of December, I feel deeply the loss of light as the nights continue to get longer and longer. Somehow it does not feel right to go out for my afternoon walk at 4 pm and return in full darkness. As people have done for millennia, I’m looking for ways to keep things warm both emotionally and physically as the colder weather settles in. I’m making a point to schedule in time to engage in rituals that help me tap into that deep inner light that exists deep within me – that exists deep within each one of us. What does that even mean, some might ask.

“There are times in our lives that call us to rise above a situation no matter how challenging it may be. From this higher perspective we can search for deeper meaning when trusting our inner light to guide us.” – Robin de Lavis

During those times, I tell myself it’s the wind’s job to blow all the leaves from the trees. I
tend to look to nature for my spiritual lessons and October reminds me to let the winds of
change blow in my life and to clear away the old, unnecessary things or habits so that my
mind, body, and spirit can prepare for the winter months. There are several tools and
rituals that I engage with to help me do this.