Photo Credit Br. Michael Perras, OFM
By Br. Michael Perras, OFM
For my entire life, I have travelled up and down Highway 48, East of Regina. It is a simple highway to drive; nothing complicated. There are a few curves, lots of straightaways, the occasional dip, usually not too many potholes, and plenty of beautiful farmland to see. This highway is part of my holy ground, as it always leads me home. In leading me home, it also has markers along the way that anchor and remind me that hope lives here.
Like the burning bush Moses encountered, which caused him to remove the sandals from his feet (Exodus 3.1-8), I, too, have had encounters with the living God along this highway. Whether it has been visiting with my Goddaughter and her family, or enjoying a visit to the family homesteads or connecting with family, I have removed my shoes many a time, encountering God, the great I AM. I have prayed in nearly every Catholic church on this highway, wept at funerals, rejoiced at weddings and delighted in baptisms. I have made pilgrimages to the Calvary Memorial Shrine Site at Candiac and to the cemeteries along this highway, and I have stood before many a nativity scene in front of churches and homes. These holy ground moments remind me that God, the great I AM, is with us in all the moments of life. I have been guided home by streetlights, farm lights, the Candiac cross lights and the front lights of my parent’s home. Each time I make this pilgrimage of hope I am reminded God, the great I Am is gracious and abounding in steadfast love (Psalm 103).
No matter which season I am travelling Highway 48, there is always one marker I look for on the journey. It’s not a burning bush per se, but it always captures my attention. When driving East on the 48, just past Kendal, on a little bluff stands a lone tree. It’s not a fig tree needing tending, but it has been left alone for one year more, and this always makes me glad. It stretches its branches to the west in an uneven manner. It’s not a very big tree, but it remains sturdy. Sometimes cattle are grazing around it; other times, it seems to shudder in the cold Saskatchewan wind, but still it remains. I have witnessed the buds in spring and have seen years of full green leaves. It stands out against the harvest sky and is majestic when adorned by frost; it really is a tree for all seasons.
As a child, when we were travelling West on the highway, this tree was the beacon of hope, indicating we would soon be at our Grandparents’. When traveling East, it was the reminder that I was coming from the holy ground of time spent with one set of Grandparents and would soon be embraced by my other Grandparents.
I’ve been thinking about this lone prairie tree as we enter this Third Week of Lent. Both the burning bush encounter of Moses and the fig tree of the vineyard in the parable of Jesus (Luke 13.1-9) we hear this Lenten Sunday called it to mind. This tree has been a sign of hope for me my whole life, and I bet it has for countless others who have passed by it. My mom tells me it has been there for her whole life. I’m so grateful it has been left “alone for one more year” by the farmers of the field in which it stands. This tree speaks to me a message of hope which is the undertone of the parable shared by Jesus.
The gardener begging for one more year to tend the tree is a reminder of how God gives us time to grow, for conversion of heart, to mend relationships, and to bear fruit. As we step further into Lent, let us be attentive to the tending we need to do in our lives and our relationships. You never know when a burning bush may appear. As we continue in this Jubilee Year, let us be attentive to the beacons of hope along the highway of life. Let us be attentive to the holy ground on which we tread. Let us be brave enough to say again, “Here I am,” as we pilgrimage onwards.
Br. Michael Perras, OFM is Franciscan Friar who ministers at Mount St. Francis Retreat Centre, Cochrane, Alberta. He grew up in Glenavon, Saskatchewan on Highway 48.
