Paying Attention to the Nature of "tri-incidences"

THE POWER OF 3 IN GOD'S WORLD

One of my favorite worship leaders is Mark Miller.  I love not only singing and listening to the inspirational music he writes (especially about inclusiveness) but I also just love the spirit in which he plays the piano and leads worship!  A couple of years ago I went to a workshop that Mark lead about worship and music and he shared with us his wonderful communion liturgy that is in our TFWS book (we call it affectionately here at Bear Creek our “black book” ...here’s a link of the setting if you want to listen to it! Please do!)

As Mark was sharing about this setting, he shared that he loves music in 3!  He shared that he felt it was more inviting and tended to draw people in.  He shared that music in 2 and in 4 are more insistent.  Almost march like.  Very linear.  But music in 3 feels like the holy is inviting us into a dance!

I loved that!  And it’s one of the reasons I’ve so loved the idea of the holy trinity.  It’s not supposed to be a doctrinal insistence, but instead an invitation to see God in new ways!  Thus, I have always tried to pay attention to incidents that seem to come in threes.  I mean I love coincidences...but I feel most of them are just that...happy accidents.  But when they come in 3’s... when they become tri-incidents...then I really listen.  If feel like the sacred is almost trying to hit me on the head and say, “hey, listen up!”

The other day three things kind of converged on me and they’ve started me to thinking.  First, my granddaughter Emerson found a bird’s nest in the back yard and it had 4 speckled eggs in it.  She was so excited.  For a week straight, every evening she would bring me over to the nest hoping to see the eggs hatch.  But, then one day she didn’t.  And another day she didn’t.  And then, I finally asked and with tears in her eyes she shared that the eggs were gone.  Someone stole them. Probably a raccoon. And with all her strength she said, “But that’s just the way nature works sometimes, Papa.”   Needless to say, a big hug was in order...for me, too!

That evening, I took a walk.  Right around 8:30 pm.  It was dusk outside.  Still enough light to see.  I love to walk at this time of the day because I am able to do two things...put my day at peace...let go of all that has happened and listen to the birds!  As you may know, I’m kind of leaning into the bird thing as of late!  But this evening I did not hear a single bird!  How strange!  And how eerie!  I’m not sure what was going on, but it kind of creeped me out!

So that’s two...and now for the third.  Yesterday I was listening to a podcast on birds, and there was a guest on from the island of Guam.  His name is Craig Santos Perez.  Craig is Chamorro (native to Guam) and grew up in Guam in the 80’s and 90’s.  During this time an invasive species called the brown tree snake had invaded Guam and wiped out...get this...every native species of bird on the island!  As a child growing up in the natural areas of Guam, Craig Santos Perez never ever heard the sound of a bird! 

Craig now is an avid birder and conservationist.  He now works and lives in Hawaii, where many of Hawaii’s native birds are now facing the same fate...not one caused by the brown tree snake, but from pressures caused by another invasive species...humans!

Craig is a poet and lives with his 8-year-old daughter in Hawaii. He shared this poem on the podcast.  May we all take this poem to heart and work with Craig and all others who are doing the good work of being God’s caregivers to our precious Mother Earth! This is truly what God is calling us to be in Genesis 1 and 2 when God calls us to be good stewards of the earth!

The Last Safe Habitat

By Dr. Craig Santos Perez

For the Kauai'i O'o, whose song was last heard in 1987

I don't want our daughter to know

that Hawai'i is the bird extinction capital

of the world. I don't want her to walk

around the island feeling haunted

by tree roots buried under concrete.

I don't want her to fear the invasive

predators who slither, pounce,

bite, swallow, disease, and multiply.

I don't want her to see paintings

and photographs of birds she'll never

witness in the wild.

I don't want her to

imagine their bones in dark museum

drawers. I don't want her to hear

their voice recordings on the internet.

I don't want her to memorize and recite

the names of 77 lost species and subspecies.

I don't want her to draw a timeline

with the years each was “first collected”

and “last sighted.”

I don't want her to learn

about the Kaua'i 'O'o, who was observed

atop a flowering 'Ohi'a tree, calling

for a mate, day after day, season after

season, because he didn't know he was

the last of his kind—

until one day, he disappeared,

forever, into a nest of avian silence.

I don't want our daughter to calculate

how many miles of fencing is needed

to protect the endangered birds

that remain. I don't want her to realize

the most serious causes of extinction

can't be fenced out.

I want to convince her

that extinction is not the end. I want

to convince her that extinction is

just a migration to the last safe habitat

on earth.

I want to convince her

that our winged relatives have arrived

safely to their destination: a wondrous

island with a climate we can never

change, and a rainforest fertile

with seeds and song.

May you, my granddaughter, Emerson, and I join Craig, his daughter, and God as we join together to save our last safe habitat for people and for animals.

Your friend and pastor, moved by this silence to become an advocate for Mother Earth, Brook

PS: Here is a clip of Craig reading this poem