Big Night

I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love. I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. – Hosea 11:4 (NRSVUE) 

Every spring in Western Maine, there comes a week when folks set their rain boots beside the front door and slip fresh batteries into their headlamps. All through dinner, they listen to the weather forecast, wondering if this will be the night when temperatures will linger above 40 degrees and the air will be damp as a salamander’s skin.  

When Big Night finally arrives, texts and emails begin to fly. Kids are much too excited to finish their broccoli. Grandparents pack hot cocoa and extra snacks. Neighbors offer rides. It’s going to be a long, chilly night, and before it’s over, thousands of amphibians will climb out of the forest floor and make their way back to the vernal pools where they hatched, and where they will now lay their eggs – that is, if they can survive the crossing of treacherous roads.  

Which is where we humans come in: big folks wearing wide, waterproof hats; little folks with ladybug umbrellas and dinosaur boots. Ever so quietly, we watch and wait at the edge of the woods. Ever so gently, we carry each salamander and frog across the road. And just maybe, when nobody is watching, we lift them like infants to our cheeks; we whisper a blessing for their journey and their future; and we find our hearts swelling with the tender, protective love of God.  

Prayer
Holy One, help us to lift and protect the most fragile among us. Lead us with cords of human kindness as you teach us to be your blessing to all who make their home on Earth. Amen.

About the Author
Yael Lachman leads contemplative retreats, outdoor worship, and art adventures for all ages, and is the pastor of Singing Creek Church of the Wild in California’s Central Valley. You can find Yael here.