The Home Altar

This spring and early summer, I stumbled into a mystery on the back porch. Once the seat covers had been removed and the cushions put on the porch sofa, each morning I found scraps of grass and sticks scattered on one side. They looked like nest building materials, but there was no rhyme or reason to the way they were scattered about. This began the hilarious game of, go outside to greet the sunrise, go to the garage, get a bin, gather up the yard waste from the sofa, and put it in the bin. This continued for weeks.

Finally, as she grew more brazen, I encountered the culprit. A robin was flying up to the porch, clutching the materials in her beak, and attempting to land on a small metal cover for a kitchen vent on the back of the house. St. Clare House is intended to be a house of hospitality, but this was definitely a new twist to our mission! The slope of the metal cover meant the the materials simply slid off and collected on the sofa.

I continued the back and forth game of her decorating the porch and me cleaning it up. She brought increasing amounts of material and I kept composting them. Our relationship had reached a perfect state of cyclical dysfunction. Something needed to change. In my work as a chaplain to the unhoused community of Vermont, I have become keenly sensitive to the injustice of hostile architecture, the kinds of bars that make it impossible to sleep on a bench, spikes that make alcoves an impossible place to lay down, and rough rubble that turns outdoor gathering spaces into a dangerous rocky landscape. It was hard to imagine what I was about to do, adding a piece of hostile architecture to the house of hospitality and place I call home.

A single set of non-lethal bird spikes installed over the vent set a boundary that I prayed would send the right message, I want to honor your goal, but you’ve picked an unworkable spot. Your goal is beautiful and good, but this particular pathway just won’t get you there.

The spikes immediately ended the game of gathering and then composting the weeds and grasses. That was when something beautiful happened. The robin and her mate found the hanging basket on the front porch. It was stable, safe, and big enough to hold their materials. Before long, it was home to a perfect nest, a feat of creativity from my avian sibling. Shortly after the nest appeared, so did the gorgeous beautiful blue hue that announced life was on the way.

We had to be extra cautious, as both robins were keen to protect their heritage from interlopers, but with fierce gentleness, we were able to capture some images that showed what setting a boundary had done. Something impossible became possible when the location and means shifted. The experience flew by in a matter of weeks. Eggs became hatchlings who more resemble their dinosaur ancestors than birds.

These fragile creatures needed the safety of the nest just to survive, and that nest needed to be somewhere that predators would not reach easily. The siblings rapidly transformed into chicks, feathering out and becoming more avian daily.

Until one day, the parents stopped defending the nest and we found it totally empty. The little ones had headed out into the world and were seeking out their own adventures. It seemed as though the whole affair had come to a close. That was until I spotted a strange little bird in the gardens while walking the dog. After looking more closely, I realized it was one of the trio, getting ready to praise God by being a bird and singing the song of their people.

On the one hand, there wasn’t anything I did to help launch this new family of creatures. On the other hand, in recognizing the unworkable plan that the robin had hatched, I was able to encourage a change that meant her little ones actually would hatch! This whole episode was a powerful reminder for me that setting boundaries can be a life-giving instead of a life-diminishing “no”. Sometimes, the work I do with humans looks like this too, helping people to articulate a life-giving “no”, because a beautiful idea needs to be done in a new place, in a new way, or under different circumstances that can actually support the change and growth that they are longing for. I’m grateful to have had this experience and to be able to explore the wisdom it held.

Practice

What about you?

• Is there a life-giving no that you need to give in order to help someone you care about?
• Is there a life-giving no that you need to hear so a dream of yours can actually take root?
• What gets in the way of setting or receiving boundaries that can be a life-giving no?

Be gentle with yourself, you are worth it.

Peace and Everything Good,

The Rev. JM Longworth, OEF Spiritual Direction and Trauma Care

https://www.sdicompanions.org/sdi-profile/GreenMtFriarOEF/ To book an appointment: https://calendly.com/greenmtfriaroef