The plum tree in our yard began to bloom with delicate flowers during Holy Week, and by Easter most of the tree had flowered. Tonight, the third Sunday of Easter begins, and they have faded. But shad buds have opened, and the crab apple tree will soon follow, each tree at its appointed time.

This week I will begin a sabbatical, the first one I’ve had. It has a name: Beloved Communities: A Pilgrimage. I’m glad to be starting in spring, glad for the plum blossoms and the accompaniment of their soft beauty, a good time to begin a journey.  We are going to travel around Turtle Island, heading south first, then west, then north, and finally east again, toward the dawn. This time next week, there will be dogwoods blooming in Appalachia, their gentle white and pink petals lighting up the depths of mountain woods. Tonight, I’m thinking of the road to Emmaus, knowing  wherever we travel in this pilgrimage to community, we’ll meet Jesus on the way, in conversations, in listening, in the breaking of the bread.