Birdtober Day 1: Lilac-breasted Roller and SJT October: The Slow Work of God

 

Today is the first day of Birdtober. It's an event for visual artists, but I've been using the prompts to write daily poems in October for five years now. (All are certified 100% AI-free!) Above you can see 2026's list. And the first bird, the Lilac-breasted Roller, is one I've seen here in Uganda.

 

Strident, squawking,

Rolling, stalking,

Snake devouring,

Colors flowering,

Fearlessly protect their babies 

All while dressed as lovely ladies 

Brown savannas, purple flashes

When lilac-breasted roller passes

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey 

This month's SJT host, Patricia, shared some words by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin with us. Here's a part of the quote:

 

"Above all, trust in the slow work of God. 

 

...it is the law of all progress

that it is made by passing through some stages of instability --

and that it may take a very long time.

 

And so I think it is with you;

your ideas mature gradually -- let them grow,

let them shape themselves, without undue haste. 

Don't try to force them on, 

as though you could be today what time

(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)

will make of you tomorrow."  

She asked us where we are trusting -- or struggling to trust -- the slow work of God. I think it's a difficult question to answer, because sometimes we can only see how the work happened as we look back over years. But when I do that, I see many instances where I spent hours of painful worrying over something that has now gone away completely. I wish I had been able to rest and trust that God was at work, but more often I simply fretted. So I assume there are things in my life now that I am wasting my mental energies over, even if I'm not aware of what they are. 

 

When we work with people (I'm a teacher, working with seventh to eleventh graders this year), we know that very few things happen instantly. If it seems that a change or a realization is instant, chances are there were many steps that went before, even if we don't know what they were. People are not machines, and their development is organic rather than mechanical. As Rob Bell puts it, "Seeds, not switches." We have to trust that the seeds we're planting will bear fruit, even though we probably won't be there to see it. 

Reading Update

Book #82 of 2026 was Some Starry Night, by Irene Latham. I bought this in April, right after it came out, and was so excited to read it. Why did I wait until August to read it? Mostly because I read the borrowed books first, and the ones I actually own get left until later! This is a silly way to read and I need to stop doing it. I loved the book, which imagines that Emily Dickinson, the famously reclusive poet, leaves Amherst and goes to Paris, where she meets Vincent Van Gogh. What an amazing thought this is, and Irene Latham does such a beautiful job of creating their conversations and the moments they spend together. I've read lots of this author's books, but this is the first one she's written for adults. Here's a sample: "She wondered how Vincent would paint the beautiful moments of her life. Her world in Amherst with its enchanted memories -- the summer picnics, the winter afternoons tapping maple trees for sap. Could he put the wet, sweet scent of autumn in a painting? The spring's lacy cherry blossoms?" What a wonderful thought!

 

Book #83 was Restart, by Gordon Korman. Thirteen-year-old Chase falls off the roof and hits his head. When he comes to, he can't remember his life before. But gradually he finds out that he was not the nicest guy. Is this an opportunity to be someone new?

 

Book #84 was a book club pick, The Lumber Baron's Wife, by Lynn Austin. Kate, the woman in the title, has a checkered past and a difficult present. We get to see what her life is like in 1870s Michigan, and we also follow Ashley, a modern-day museum researcher who is trying to figure out what happened to Kate and others around her.

 

Book #85 was 28 Summers, by Elin Hilderbrand. This is a story about a couple who spend one weekend together every year for 28 years.  One is married and the other has a series of relationships, but nothing stands in the way of this yearly rendezvous. While reading about infidelity isn't my favorite, I thought this book was very well done. The characters, even the most minor, were so believable. And the results of this illicit relationship - joy, guilt, stress, family tensions - were so real. Book #86 was a related novella, The Sixth Wedding.

 

Book #87 was Edwidge Danticat's new book, Dèy. I decided to learn from my experience with book #82 (see above), and start reading this one the moment the pre-ordered book popped onto my Kindle. I finished it quickly! I am a completist with Danticat, and I've read all of her books except the one about death (it's on my list but I haven't been able to read it yet). This one is set in Miami, but Haiti is never far from anyone's mind. It's about homes, security, trauma, immigration, and, of course grief (dèy is the Kreyol spelling of the French word deuil, which means mourning). It's also about what it's like to love Haiti and not live there. I recommend it. 

 

Book #88 was Liane Moriarty's Big Little Truths. Like other books by Moriarty, this book is deceptively light-hearted, while dealing with extremely heavy and difficult topics.

 

Book #89 was Gabriel's Moon, by William Boyd. I was drawn in by the African theme, but it wasn't really the main story. This is the first of a projected trilogy and I'm not sure I'll read the rest. There were many disparate elements that never quite came together for me. 

 

Book #90 was The One Day You Were My Husband, by Rosie Walsh. I really enjoyed this at first, but the twistiness took it to places I didn't like. 

 

Book #91 was Wild America, by Roger Tory Peterson and James Fisher. I really loved this book. I have the updated version by Scott Weidensaul, but I wanted to read the original first. It's the story of a 30,000 mile trip across North America in 1953. Two highly knowledgeable naturalists and ornithologists comment on everything they see. I did a lot of Googling to see what has changed in the 73 years since this trip, and now I'm excited to read Weidensaul's book Return to Wild America. 

 

Book #92 was a book club pick, When We Meet Again, by Kristin Harmel. This is the fourth Harmel book we've read together. It wasn't my favorite (that would probably be The Book of Lost Names), but we enjoyed it and it's always great to talk about these things with my book club. 

Poetry Friday: Wendell Berry and the Rhythms of Work and Rest

I shared this poem by Wendell Berry back in October of 2014, but I'm sharing it again today because Wendell Berry died this week at 92. I have been so touched reading all the tributes to Wendell Berry. He was loved by people of all ideological persuasions. And as a farmer and a poet, he understood a lot about how the world works and about finding the balance between what we have to make happen with the sweat of our brow and what happens while we are asleep.

 

 

Whatever is Foreseen in Joy

Wendell Berry

 

Whatever is foreseen in joy
Must be lived out from day to day.
Vision held open in the dark
By our ten thousand days of work.
Harvest will fill the barn; for that
The hand must ache, the face must sweat.
And yet no leaf or grain is filled
By work of ours; the field is tilled
And left to grace. That we may reap,
Great work is done while we’re asleep.

 

When we work well, a Sabbath mood
Rests on our day, and finds it good.

 

Patricia is our Poetry Friday host this week! Go visit and see what everyone else is posting! 

SJT September: Rhythm

This month's Spiritual Journey Thursday host, Ramona, has given us the topic of Rhythm. She wrote, "I would love to hear about rhythms that work for you, the rhythms that ground you in your spiritual life, or anything that pops into your mind relating to rhythm."

 

We're gradually getting back into our rhythms at the school in Uganda where I work. It's week four, so you'd think we'd have everything figured out by now, but I for one do not. This year I'm not teaching an AP class, so I have months to learn about the changes in the AP French exam. I had space on my calendar from the beginning to devote to this project, but it wasn't until yesterday (Wednesday) that I actually started. I'm going to have my first official observation tomorrow (Friday), but I'm still adjusting to all the new students I have, and trying to find out what they can and can't do. I'm part of the team working on the high school play, but we haven't had a rehearsal yet where everyone was present. 

 

So yeah, sort of back in the rhythms and sort of not.

 

One thing that came to mind when Ramona mentioned the word Rhythm was that our middle schoolers are getting ready for Ugandan Independence Day, coming up on October 9th. They are going to be performing some traditional dances from different parts of the country at our school celebration on the 8th, before we go on our October break. And when they are practicing, the drums sound out throughout the neighbourhood. You want to talk about rhythm? These percussionists have it! My classroom is on the other side of the street that cuts our campus in two, but for the people trying to teach in the same building as the drummers: good luck with that! It's better just to stop trying to make yourself heard by your students and surrender to the rhythm!

 

Sometimes that's how it is with spiritual rhythms too. There are seasons when we are in control of our calm devotional moments, and then there are others when the rhythms are bigger than we are. We have to stay on our feet -- or our knees -- as best as we can. Other metaphors we could use instead of the enormously loud drumming might be stormy seas or earthquakes or even flash floods like the horrific scenes we've been seeing in Nepal. When we're in a crisis, either one that's visible to everyone else or one that's only inside of our own souls,  the rhythm can overwhelm. 

 

Whether you're in control of the rhythm or the rhythm is in control of you, I wish all my SJT buddies a great school year. I'm glad we can trust that God is bigger than all of it!  

Reading Update

Book #69 of 2026 was The Book Club for Troublesome Women, by Marie Bostwick. This was a book club pick. Set in 1963 and following, it's a story about a group of women who get together to read Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique. As they keep the book club going (they call themselves the Bettys), we get to see the lives of all these different women. My favorite part was at the end when a few very famous people appeared. (By the way, one of the women in the book group got the waiter at the Ugandan cafe where we meet to pick this book from two we were considering. He liked the word troublesome and felt it boded well for how interesting the book would be.) 

 

Book #70 was a re-read, Prayer in the Night, by Tish Harrison Warren. You can read what I wrote about it here.

 

Book #71 was Strong to the End: The Simple Service and Sudden Sacrifice of the Martyrs in Haiti, by David and Alicia Lloyd with Dean Merrill. I wrote a little bit about this story here.

 

Book #72 was Ann Patchett's book about her friend Lucy Grealy, Truth & Beauty: A Friendship. The most striking thing about this book to me is how difficult Grealy was, and the fact that Patchett can portray their friendship so lovingly. 

 

Book #73 was Three Days in June, by Anne Tyler. I used to read lots of Tyler's books, but it's been a while since I've read one. I enjoyed this.

 

Book #74 was This Book Made Me Think of You, by Libby Page. Like the last one, this book was a sweet, undemanding read with a happy ending. Sometimes that's exactly what you need!

 

I had book #75 on my shelf in my classroom in Haiti, but somehow I had never read it. In a house where we were staying, a kid had a copy that I read. The book is Sisters: A Graphic Novel by Raina Telgemeier, and it was a lovely read.

 

Book #76 was Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir. I read his book The Martian earlier in the summer, and this one is similar. It's a science-y book but you don't have to get all the science to enjoy the story. It's about figuring stuff out, and friendship, and optimism. I really liked this one!

 

Book #77 was Whistler, by Ann Patchett. It's about reconsidering the events of our lives, and seeing them through other lenses. Also it's not a horse book, in spite of the cover.

 

Book #78 was Uprooted, by Naomi Novik. This is a fantasy and not really my kind of book. However, it was an interesting story.

 

Book #79 was A Family Matter, by Claire Lynch. This is about a family secret that emerges forty years later, in a world that has changed enormously.

 

Book #80 was Heartstone, by Elle Katharine White. Jane Austen with dragons. I'll always try Jane Austen fanfiction, and this was fun.

 

Book #81 was The Steps, by Wendelin Van Draanen. Is Ruby paranoid, or is everyone in her family really out to get her? And also, she's in the chess club.

 

 

Poetry Friday: Migrations

My school year has had a bit of a slow start, with a couple of days where I didn't have much to do. That will change soon. When you read this post on Friday, I'll be having a super busy day, teaching six periods, five different levels of French. But because I've been sitting around some this week, I had the chance to listen to a program called "Words in Flight" that came out in February. (You can find it here.) It includes some interviews with poets and lots of poems about birds. 

 

It was hard to choose just one of these poems to share, but because I've been thinking a lot about migration, immigration, moving around from country to country, I went with this villanelle by Sean Hill.

 

 

 

The Western Tanager or Why Montana
Piranga ludoviciana

by Sean Hill

 

Are wanderings the same as migrations?
I came to Montana for love, which sometimes is
how we know our destinations.
The Western Tanager flies here for procreation 
when the snow goes wet, puddles, runs, and takes to 
far wandering. Is this the same as migration?
A life is the sum of grand and modest peregrinations. 
Communities bloom at the meeting of opportunity 
and ambition and can be a way to know our destinations.
A fire-engine red head cooling to orange to 
a sunny yellow body with those charcoal wings, 
the male western tanager flashes conflagration
or an eastern autumn, in flight. One, familiar, greeted 
me shortly after we both arrived letting me know 
our wanderings weren’t the same—his, a migration.
In a stand of ponderosas where a blanket of snow lay for decades 
or longer, the dendrologist says these trees moved up from what’s 
Mexico as that quiet water pulled back, a different migration
—moving seed by seed north generationally migrating 
to where they had been and where they could live 
never asking how do we know our destination?
Why Montana? One among my interrogations, 
both public and private like How big is a home? 
Are wanderings the same as migrations?
and How do I know my destinations?

 

 

How thankful I am for migrations, both of birds and of people! How our lives are enriched by these visitors from elsewhere, and how we will be impoverished if we continue to remove people as has become so common around the world. 

 

I wrote a poem in 2021 that explored some of these ideas; you can read it here.

 

Molly is hosting the Poetry Friday roundup this week. 

Poetry Friday: For the Bird Singing Before Dawn

Welcome to Poetry Friday! I have been back home in Uganda less than a week after a short time in the United States. We're getting ready to go back to school next Tuesday, so there's lots to do, but I'll take frequent breaks to round up your posts the old fashioned way. Leave your link in the comments so we can all enjoy what you've chosen to share.

 

I read a lot of sad pieces as I tried to pick my poem for today. I'm thinking a lot about what it is to be an immigrant, and what it is to be unwelcome and sent away, as I watch the news about the cancellation of Haitian TPS. In my mind it was all mixing with the Odyssey movie that we saw the day before we left the US, and the law of hospitality which is a central theme.  But I finally settled on something a little more cheerful instead.

 

For the Bird Singing Before Dawn

Kim Stafford

 

Some people presume to be hopeful
when there is no evidence for hope,
to be happy when there is no cause.
Let me say now, I’m with them.

 

In deep darkness on a cold twig
in a dangerous world, one first
little fluff lets out a peep, a warble,
a song—and in a little while, behold:

 

the first glimmer comes, then a glow
filters through the misty trees,
then the bold sun rises, then
everyone starts bustling about.

 

And that first crazy optimist, can we
forgive her for thinking, dawn by dawn,
“Hey, I made that happen!
And oh, life is so fine.”

 

 

 

You can read some of Stafford's thoughts on this poem here.

 

Linda M. has written a lovely poem called "How to Make a Map." 

 

Michelle is thinking about native plants, and particularly one that is a dear friend.

 

Karen shares a Philip Larkin poem and some thoughts about writing and living.

 

Patricia's link isn't live yet, so I'll come back later to update this entry.

 

Tabatha has a Wendell Berry poem about lilies and surprises.

 

These were all the links awaiting me when I woke up to a chilly Kampala morning (it's 66 degrees, so chilly is maybe not what everyone would call it). I'm headed to work in a bit, and I'll keep checking for your submissions! Happy Friday!  

 

I'm back! I've been attending sessions this morning and now I have some classroom work time (much needed). While I was learning, a new link came in.

 

Denise is doing some poetry challenges right now, both writing and reading. She shares two of the poems she's read recently and both are great. Be sure to click through to read the end of "If there were a job interview to have children." Relatable! 

 

Friends, I apologize for stepping away from my hosting duties for a while. Our school owns some property on Lake Victoria where there are plans to build a new campus. Our Head of School wanted to take those who had never visited, and he asked me to go along and help people identify birds. It was a lovely Friday afternoon excursion and I saw 27 species. And now I'm back to round up the links that came in while I was busy.

 

Marcie, like Denise, is doing a poetry-reading challenge, and she has some wonderful-looking poetry books to tell us about. She's also got a haiku and a photo of beautiful summery coneflowers.

 

Irene wrote about a Berthe Morisot poem for today. You'll fall in love with her trashy pup!

 

Molly's  exploring maps with the Inklings, and she reminds us, "our journey carves its own way."

 

Margaret is also working with the topic of maps, and she's made a collage poem. I love the mental image I get of the Inklings all writing together in one place!

 

Cathy  has a variety of treasures this week, including some memories of people who have died, some art, and a new way to share poetry.

 

We're back to maps with Catherine, who's written a poem and illustrated it with a photo of stained glass. Beautiful!

 

Mary Lee has a map poem illustrated with embroidery! 

 

Linda B. is remembering a wonderful family trip with an acrostic and some gorgeous photos. 

 

Anyone else? I'm home now for the evening, so I'm fully available to round up whatever you send! 

 

Heidi is sharing map poems, too, and wishing that we may all find a hospitable place in the world. Amen to that!

 

Jone's link came in after I was asleep, and here it is! It's about what's in your heart. 

 

Carol is reflecting on what's in her heart, too.