Leah Kostamo is an earthkeeper and storyteller who is passionate about helping others live lightly on the earth from a place of joy and hope. For the past twelve years Leah and her husband Markku have spearheaded the work of A Rocha in Canada. She is the author of Planted: a Story of Creation, Calling and Community.
Some would say that Debbie’s transformation and impact aren’t the stuff of ‘planet-saving’ but at A Rocha we think they most certainly are.
‘So, how’s the commune?’, the man asks. I answer, ‘It’s great, but it’s not a commune. It’s a community.’ He laughs. ‘Can’t fool me. Lots of people. Organic gardens. Shared living spaces. Sauna. You’re a commune.’ We’re not! I want to protest. And then I wonder, Why am I feeling so defensive?
Every spring and fall, the North American prairies host a remarkable event. It’s called kettling. Migrating Sandhill Cranes Grus canadensis pause en route to come together and ride the thermals. I’ve just come back from a similar sort of family reunion.
In these days drawing near to Easter I am mindful of Christ’s work of redemption – of His design to reconcile ‘all things’ to Himself, as Paul says in Colossians. His work of redemption not only transforms human lives, but all of creation as we participate with him in his reconciling work. Allow me to illustrate.
If you are on Olympics overload and are hankering for a little talk show blather, check out Context with Lorna Dueck’s “God’s Gardeners” episode. Margaret Atwood claims the spotlight for most of the show, but then yours truly and my handsome husband Markku join Margaret and Lorna for the last third of the show.
When Moses stood at the burning bush God told him to take off his shoes because the place where he was standing was holy ground. What made it holy was the presence of God. But what if God, being everywhere, makes every place holy?
Perhaps you are like the rest of us who find it easier to count our irritations, challenges, annoyances, etc., etc., than count our blessings. Our gratitude muscles have grown flabby through lack of use. What we flabby would-be appreciators need is something to make us truly thankful. What better place to start than where we are and what we are standing upon. Dirt.
My mother-in law wears a bikini. She is seventy years old and decades of gravity have done their work. But she wears a bikini nonetheless, with a devil-may-care nonchalance to what others her age are more inclined to cover in sarongs, ruffles and cruise-wear. She’s my hero.
The first step toward living lighter—toward really rolling up one’s sleeves and caring for creation—is to get to know one’s own place. Here’s a little quiz to get you started.
My family keeps the Sabbath. Not religiously—as in, we don’t always do religious things. But we are pretty religious about “keeping” it. Our only hard and fast rule is no shopping. The point is, we say “no” to certain things. We step out of our normal rhythms of work and commerce and step into a new way of being.
