This Fragile Earth

There is great phrasing in Eucharistic Prayer C of the Book of Common Prayer. The seldom used prayer is in the Prayer Book as an alternative to the traditional Prayer A and the contemporary Prayer B. The prayers are side-by-side in the Prayer Book because of the Episcopal notion of compromise and inclusiveness. I have no idea how Prayer C, much less D, made the final cut. But it is my favorite. In my pat, I served as a lay reader in the two dioceses, Mississippi and West Missouri. If I behave myself I might have the same privilege here in the Alabama. When serving in a Mass where Eucharistic Prayer C was used, I would refer to it as the "Star Wars Prayer." Anyway, Eucharistic Prayer C has been running through my mind today. The lines that keep coming back to me are: "this fragile Earth, our island home." Somehow or another, I have connected those lines with the Airstream. Maybe it is because I am picking it up in a few hours and it is one my mind. I plan to drag it home to Welch and park it in Tinker's yard until I complete the infrastructure on my place. I realize that living in the Airstream is temporary. But, for a matter of months, perhaps years, the Airstream will be home. While in it, there are lessons to learn.

Stewardship comes to mind. Just as I did with my house, the Airstream will require my care and attention. Just as our island home deserves our diligence and respect. Stewardship is about accepting responsibility. If the roof leaks, if the plumbing clogs, if the pump breaks, I have to fix it. Yes, I could let somebody else do it, but this land and this Airstream are mine. I am responsible for them. I will perform due diligence to keep all working properly, but plan to keep DIY sites on my favorites and copies of Walden and the Complete Guide to Organic Gardening on my bookshelf.

Living in the confined quarters of the Airstream will make me mindful of simplicity. I will not have the room for stuff. Looking around The Old Goat's house, I am amazed at all the stuff. You can barely find a flat surface that is not covered with stuff -- and none of it is edible or useful. I suspect that in the distant future, archeologists will dig into our landfills and conclude that we had a curious religion that focused on acquiring stuff.

Given where the Airstream is to be sited, the land surrounding it is, shall we say, undeveloped. I hope I gain a deeper appreciation for the Alabama woodland environment. My knowledge of the trees and animals is painfully limited. Since my "profession for tax purposes" is tree farming, I had better learn something about them. I have been tracking sightings of critters by annotating my journal with the date, place, time, and circumstances of each sighting. My little piece of ground hosts a good variety of wildlife. There are squirrels, turtles, snakes, lizards, rabbits, deer, field mice, but also turkeys and foxes. The bird population is huge. When I am living on the land full time, I am confident I will see more. The point is that by living close I might succeed at becoming a part of Nature instead of a visitor.

And finally, by exercising stewardship, by living simply, and by respecting Nature, I hope to achieve humility. It would also be interesting to learn something about how (or if) I fit into the Big Picture.

This Earth, our island home. This Airstream, my castle, my safe harbor, my home.