June Issue of Zion Chimes

I grew up in southern California where I had a favorite climbing tree right across the street from my front yard. In its branches I felt invisible, light as a feather, and wise. I looked down on unsuspecting neighbors and pretended I didn't hear my mother calling me in for dinner. I climbed the tree with such confidence and familiarity that it was like sliding effortlessly up into the clouds. I took a favorite book with me and read, undisturbed, for hours. I gained perspective on my life, escaped from doing my chores, and treasured the nuances of life in a tree. As I write this I am gazing across the yard to Zion Church. My new home in the Rectory gives me a perspective of the church that reminds me of being in my tree. I watch the setting sun radiate light onto the bell tower and I see stars beckoning me to travel beyond the rooflines. Day after tomorrow is Ascension Day, when Jesus departs from his friends in order to complete and fulfill his mission with us. I try to see things, every now and then, as he must have when he left his dearest friends for the last time. How little they understood of all he told them. How desperately they needed to see things from his perspective. From above we all look so lovable, and so capable of loving. He shows us the way. He beckons us to rise above it all, pause for a moment and gain perspective on our simple lives. From above it looks doable. Why must we make things so complicated?