I am honored to share with you these photographs of Grandmother Moss. I first met her three years ago. It was a cold, snowy, yet sunny day in December. The park was mostly closed. The roads were covered with snow and ice. The ice had formed as the temperature dropped, before the rain turned to snow. The ice and snow lay heavy on the trees. Large branches had fallen blocking the roads.
The park rangers had lowered the gates just past the first little parking lot. So I stopped and parked there to explore. I had my winter hiking boots and warm coat with a wool hat and gloves. The cold didn’t bother me at all. Rather the brisk air was invigorating, and I felt glad to be alive.
A short path from the parking lot wound down to the river. On the right at the bottom of the path, I found the Grandmother tree. The beauty and strength of this tree, with her roots exposed, drew me to her. I felt I could lean into her strength like a child leaning into a hug from a grandmother. Her years of wisdom, her gentle presence, were welcoming and encouraging.
The moss has grown over her roots where the water has washed away the soil. So that when you stand below her by the water, her moss and roots are at eye level. It makes it easy to pause and enjoy the beauty of the soft, delicate moss that you might miss otherwise.
These photos are recent, taken on a sunny Autumn day. No snow in sight.
I find such comfort in this tree, that I call her Grandmother Moss. For me, she connects me with the spirit of all the Grandmothers who are gone now. The ones I remember and the ones I never met.
My father’s mother in Montana and my Mothers mother in California.
My distant great, great, (maybe another great?) grandmother who snuck out of a window in England with her baby in her arms and ran away to the United States.
All the Celtic grandmothers, in Scotland and Ireland and even the mountains of Tennessee.
The indigenous grandmothers who sat in circle and shared their teachings with me.
All the indigenous grandmothers from all the nations who prayed for their children and their children’s children.
Seven generations before and seven generations after.
Those prayers cover me and my children, and their children, and you and your children. For these grandmothers were wise enough to pray and to include all children in their prayers.
All this I believe. And I continue their prayers, seven generations before and seven generations after.
And as I was invited into circle, into prayer, I invite you.
Please find a place where nature nurtures your mind, soul and body, and lift your heart in prayer for all the children for all generations.
“May they be blessed, may they live in peace. May their hearts be filled with the light of God, so that as they grow, they may learn to pray for all the children of the world…
“May they be blessed, may they live in peace. May their hearts be filled with the light of God, so that as they grow, they may learn to pray for all the children of the world…
“May they be blessed, may they live in peace. May their hearts be filled with the light of God, so that as they grow, they may learn to pray for all the children of the world…
“May they be blessed, may they live in peace. May their hearts be filled with the light of God, so that as they grow, they may learn to pray for all the children of the world….
Amen and Amen in all the languages of the world.
