Dear friends,
In light of recent events I decided to share this essay again, the first post I ever made on Substack back in late February. I wrote it when Russia began its invasion of Ukraine, and I still hold to the sentiment. As a former educator of 15 years, I find myself speechless and heartbroken in the face of the evil we’ve seen this week, and in the last few weeks. But truly I believe that tending is the key to peace, especially when the world is at its darkest.
I hope that this reposted essay blesses you!
S.E. Reid
“Even in a time of elephantine vanity and greed, one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people.”
Garrison Keillor
It is February 2022. And just like that, we’re living in a time of war. Again. It’s hard to know how to behave, how to respond. It goes without saying that we’re all very scared and confused. The blessing and curse of our age is not only being connected, but being aware of our connection. Humans have always been interconnected, but technology has made those threads visible. A grave responsibility, and so easy to get overwhelmed.
I found myself turning off my phone’s Focus Mode while I was still in bed this morning and going immediately to Instagram to scroll, scroll, scroll. We have a word for that, now. “Doomscrolling.”
But eventually I got a hold of myself by thinking of my favorite calming word: tend.
The word “tend” is a shortening of the word “attend”, but they both have the same root in the Old French atendre and the Latin attendere–“to expect, to stretch, to pay attention”. Therefore to “tend” is to stretch one’s mind toward something. (Online Etymology Dictionary)
When you tend to something, you give it your attention. You stretch toward it in expectation.
That’s an encouragement and a beautiful challenge. How shall I tend my campfire today? It’s not my job to wonder whom my light will attract, only to build my fire. Through gentle, productive things. Through peaceful, honorable, healing things. For me, it’s baking bread. Keeping the woodstove warm against the frost. Feeding and caring for and snuggling the dog. Stewarding the house I live in and the land I live on. Sharing good, truthful words–both my own and the words of others.
And what about prayer?
When we pray for each other–friend or stranger, local or global–we are all tending as a collective, stretching our minds toward something, placing holy attention on an open wound. And I believe that God honors our holy attention, that stretching of the heart and mind. It pulls us out of ourselves, a magic and a pain that changes us.
It is good to feel horror in the face of the horrible. It is good to grieve with the grieving. But when we act–and we MUST eventually act–it will be in tending what we want to grow, cultivate, and raise into the light.
We get to choose. What will you tend, today?
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Still beautiful and relevant. Thank you for this reminder to tend.