I lift my eyes up to the hills

from where will my help come?

My help comes from Love abundant….

~ Love Abundant, by Rev. Alicia R. Forde

Late August in New England. Maine’s ocean feels warmer (or maybe we’re just getting used to it). Teachers and students are already counting down to Back-To-School Day. The Annual Pleiades Meteor shower is taking center stage as I write this, giving us a stunning reminder of our small, small place in the universe — and our infinite capacity for awe.

‘Awe,’ of course, depends a lot on context. Spiritual awe, for those who have encountered it, may be an experience of the vastness of creation, the depth of one’s capacity to love, the affirmation of one’s own whole beloved being. A quiet swim at Herring Cove, buoyed by the gentle strength of the ocean, marveling at the endless expanse of horizon. Standing atop Mt. Mansfield, the breathtaking scale of the Green Mountains stretched beneath your feet. Gazing into your child’s face for the first time. Awe, abundant.

But there is another use of the word, coined in the early days of this century by the description, ‘Shock and Awe.’ Awe, as in, tremble at the threat of deadly violence. As in, fear the wrath of an angry god, and not the unknowable fullness of G-d’s love.

Most of our days, we live in an in-between place. We are aware that there is danger in the world. Indeed it has always been so, though many people are newly awake to the vastness of suffering and inequity. The values at the core of our Unitarian Universalist faith affirm that we should not — we cannot — turn away from this truth. Neither can we, nor should we, turn away from the other signs of awe — signs of connection, of hope, of beauty, of care — that also surround us and embolden our spirits.

Embrace, in these final weeks, an August of Abundance. Celebrate the prolific squash plants as you bake one more zucchini bread for neighbors. Marvel at the resilient rhizomes beneath your feet ever strengthening and expanding the grass you are about to mow for the umpteenth time. Find a meadow to lie back on this week and count meteors between the infinite stars — or find a livestream of it, if you don’t live near a meadow, marveling at the technology that makes connections across chasms possible. Scroll through the contact list on your phone and pause on each name, remembering your love and care for them — and theirs for you. We are not alone.

This world is full of all the things — the beauty, the horror, the promise, the pain, the long stretch of forever, and the tiny instant of time we are given to experience it all.

Where will our help materialize?

Beloveds, it is here. Love Abundant is in every face we greet — even our own. Love Abundant is in the crickets’ evening song. Love Abundant is in our linking of arms across timezones and imagined borders. Love Abundant is our ancestors’ wisdom whispering in our souls. Love Abundant bears the weight of our hearts when it feels impossible to hold. Love Abundant guides our discernment and will guide our feet, guide our spirit, as we move into the final weeks of this New England summer.

May we feel Love Abundant, when we most need its embrace.

May we be Love Abundant to all we encounter.

May we remember Love, in all its vast abundance.