For ten years of my life I lived in a small town in South Central Pennsylvania, just a hop-skip-and-a-jump from the Appalachian Trail and Michaux State Forest. I have grown up walking through those woods, smelling those flowers and playing in those leaves. I have jumped in those puddles, squished my way through that mud, hopped and danced and climbed in and over and around those trails, those rocks, those trees. In just ten short days I will hop on a plane to take me back to Penn’s Woods for the summer, where I will rejoice in the rain and the mountain laurel and the fireflies once more. But today I am thinking of my tulip poplar and lilies and dogwood tree not because I will get to see them so soon, but because today is a day reserved specially for that line of thought. On every April 22, we are asked to take a day—one measly little day—to consider our Earth and all that makes it glorious. As I have said before, we need to fight for our Mother Earth. Everything we use and need to survive and enjoy doing so came in some form from her, and for that she should be thanked. We need to protect her and those parts of her that sustain us: her water, her plants and animals, her soil that grows and cleans those things for us. She holds the elements and minerals that fuel our bodies and our material products, that keep our minds and computers functioning. Her atmosphere and trees protect us from our overexcited friend the sun, and her lakes and rivers and mountains provide endless entertainment and happiness. It is inarguable that these are things we need, and things we must passionately and fervently protect. Our Mother Earth was not prepared for rapid and hungry industrialization, nor was she prepared for our collective apathy towards it. Much like with our own mothers (who happen to own another fast-approaching day of significance), we must thank her for all she has done to help us exist and grow by taking care of her in return. Just like our mothers need our hugs and, when the time unfortunately comes, physical care, our Mother Earth needs our stewardship. And she needs it now. But our mothers—and Mother Earth is no exception—also need our celebration. Not only do they need care, they need recognition that they are supremely loved. Our Mother Earth needs us to stand at the tops of mountains and bottoms of valleys, waist-deep in oceans and barefoot in meadows, and show our love to her. She needs us to sing out that she is lovely, and brilliant, and strong. She needs us to appreciate her quirks and her strengths, her platypi and her redwoods, her mimosa and her lionesses. She needs us to love her. I love our Earth. I love her smells and her beauty. I love the wonder and awe that fills me as I stare out at the trees and the grass and the mountains and the sky. Being in nature brings me a profound sense of joy I cannot fully put into words. As the LDS church’s official statement on stewardship says, “It is important to see and appreciate the glory and grandeur of God in everything about us, because the state of the human soul and the environment are interconnected—each affects the other.” And so, today, on this beautiful Earth Day, please take the time to step outside and feel this world around you and underneath you. Press your hands into the grass, the dirt, the sand. Breathe in the air and its scents of flowers, soil, rain. Hug a tree. Embrace this Earth, her majesty and her beauty, because we only have one. We are hers, much like she is ours. We must not take that for granted. I’m glad that I live in this beautiful world. I'm thankful to my mother for showing it to me. A footnote: If for whatever reason you can’t go outside, today is a great day to watch The Lorax. Not sure you’ll like it? Don't worry. You totally will.
1 Comment
Valerie
4/23/2017 09:30:21 am
A glorious celebration. Thank you for it.
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I'm Audrey, a college student and existential rambler.
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