Sabbath is about taking our hands off the controls one day a week and letting God be God. Go on walks. Take guiltless naps. Share meals with family and friends. Cultivate a 24/6 life. If we all started honoring the Sabbath, we'd save 10 to 14 percent of our resources. But even more importantly, the Sabbath creates a space to get to know our neighbors, spend time in community, and be still with God.

My second priority for 2010 is to tune out the noise and tune into God. A decade ago, most of us could barely find the on-ramp to the information highway. Now our lives are a noisy blur - chat rooms, C-Span, satellite TV, triple digit cable options, email, IM, cell phones, text messaging, YouTube, iTunes, Bluetooth, Facebook, Twitter, RSS feeds. There is a loneliness and desperation that accompanies such noisy lives, and the temptation of false pride-an iGod mentality. All this noise is unhealthy: it stresses our bodies, our emotions, and our relationships. Most importantly, it takes us away from God. Let's create a space where we can once again hear the voice of Adonai and cultivate a culture of quiet. 

To see the original article featuring  Nancy's reflection (in addition to others), please click here.

After convocation, I visited the freshman seminar. We arranged our chairs in a circle, and the students asked questions. My only regret is that we only got to about half of the students—their questions were remarkable, but we ran out of time to answer them all. 

Before we parted, I asked the students if they would be willing to share the personal credos each had written. Below is a contribution from the young woman sitting next to me:

I believe it is crucial for me as a young adult in today’s society to pay extra attention to keeping our earth green. I believe that by not having my car this year, I’ve lowered global CO2 emissions, even if only by a fraction of a fraction of a percent. I believe that by carpooling everywhere, my friends and I aren’t damaging the air as much as those who all take separate cars to the same place. I believe that by shortening my shower time by two minutes and turning off the sink water while brushing my teeth as Nancy Sleeth suggests, I’m saving water and using less of the world’s limited resources. I believe that by having recycling bins all over campus, we are making it super-easy and convenient for young adults to make a difference without them hav ing to take the time out of their days to think about how they can recycle; the opportunity is right in front of them, wherever they go. I believe owning dishes and washing them whenever I need them is far more sustainable than purchasing and repurchasing disposable plates, cups, silverware, etc., like so many college students do. I believe that making gifts and homemade goodies for friends’ and family members’ birthdays saves money and the plastic resources that are entailed when buying someone a gift. I believe that walking to class and to church for lessons not only saves me money that I would spend on gas, but also saves the air from CO2 and allows me to appreciate God’s green earth; I find new things everyday to be thankful for that I wouldn’t even have seen had I been driving.

Wow! Interactions with students like this give me so much hope for God’s Kingdom here on earth. I especially love the closing line—the unexpected gift of walking instead of driving has opened this young woman’s eyes, allowing her to see new things each day to thank God for, things she would have missed zipping by at forty miles per hour. 

Imagine the things we would see if we started living our lives as if they were a journey of transformation rather than a mad dash to the finish line. My prayer is that we all slow down, especially in this holiday season, to appreciate God’s creation through the timeless eyes of Christ, the Child.

Nancy Sleeth is the program director for Blessed Earth. For more information about Nancy please visit our staff bio page.

"We praise God for the beauty of the cosmos and of the earth, the marvelous garden that he entrusted to men and women in order that they might cultivate it and tend it (cf. Gen 2:15). It is good that people remember that they find themselves in a flowerbed of the immense universe, created for them by God. It is important for people to realize that neither they nor the matters which they so frantically pursue are "everything". Only God is "everything", and in the end everyone will have to give an accounting of themselves to him."

-Discourse After Testimonies for Peace, At the Day of Prayer for Peace, January 24, 2002

Nancy Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Program Director and resides with her husband, Matthew, in Wilmore, KY.

Over the last three decades, the Three R’s--Reduce, Reuse and Recycle--have become a regular part of our speech and practices.  Now it’s time focus on the Three S’s—Swop, Share, and Save.  John the Baptist tells us if we have two cloaks, to share one with our brother.  Isn’t it time for us to take an inventory of all the extra cloaks, toys, furniture, and clothing we have in our homes, and give them to someone who needs them?

Last summer, we visited a friend on his family land in eastern Tennessee. The stone cabin under construction at the top of the hill seemed like a metaphor for the young couple’s marriage—strong yet fledgling, promising yet new. The view from the hilltop must have been spectacular one hundred years ago; it was still quite pleasant. But now the skyline was obscured by a persistent haze. The nearby mountains, it was explained, act like a catcher’s mitt, keeping a close hold on the ball of smog that collects in this region.

But it wasn’t only the pollution that detracted from the view. We were standing on the only large tract of land that had resisted a highly destructive invasive species—suburban sprawl.

After our picnic, I dipped a 5-gallon bucket into the barrel that connects to a rainspout on the roof and started to carry water to their newly planted saplings. After the first round, I realized that 5 gallons was too heavy for me to carry any significant distance, so I started filling the bucket halfway full. Despite the drought, they had enough water collected in the makeshift rain barrel to bring several gallons to each young tree.

Driving home, I confessed to Matthew that I had never really thought about how much water weighs and how much energy it must take to pump it up from the river and to our home. It takes about 5 gallons to flush a traditional toilet, and about 2 gallons to flush a low-flow toilet. Imagine if we had to carry that water from several miles away, like the people Matthew met when practicing medicine in Honduras. I think I would be much more careful about the water I pour down the drain.

The Bible is full of references to women drawing water from wells—women like Rebekah, who was kind to God’s creatures and remembered to water the camels, and the Samaritan woman with five husbands, who met Jesus and found eternal life. These women were reminded daily that water is a gift from God, not something to take for granted when we turn on the tap.

Carrying those pails of water to the saplings reminded me that it’s not just water we conserve when we take shorter showers; it’s also the energy it takes to transport that water. It requires loving and grateful hearts, in relationships of marriage and in relationships with God, to appreciate the gifts right before us.

Reducing Water Waste

Below are some ways to make the most of your water at home and in your yard.  

• Use drip irrigation. Instead of using regular sprinklers, water your flower bed and garden using drip irrigation or a soaker hose. This method saves water by minimizing evaporation and watering only the base of your plants. Water savings: up to 70 percent of the water typically used
• Use a shut-off nozzle. To prevent waste when the water is turned off and your hose is not being used, fit your garden hose with a shut-off nozzle. Water savings: up to 6.5 gallons per minute
• Plant a native garden. Conserve water by replacing little-used grass areas like your front yard with a native garden. A native garden can reduce street noise and offer more privacy for you and your family. 
• Use mulch. Mulching your plants reduces the amount of water lost through evaporation, limits weed growth, and improves soil conditions. Water savings: 70 percent of water typically lost through evaporation
• Reclaim your water. Collect water that has been used for bathing, washing dishes, and other household duties, and use it to water your plants.
• Cover your pool. When you’re not going for a swim, cover your pool to reduce water lost to evaporation. Water savings: 90 percent of water typically lost through evaporation

How great is God—beyond our understanding! . . . He draws up the drops of water, which distill as rain to the streams; the clouds pour down their moisture and abundant showers fall on mankind.  Job 36:26-28 (NIV)

Nancy Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Program Director and resides with her husband, Matthew, in Wilmore, KY.

What could be more patriotic than caring for the planet this Independence Day? Whether you’re hosting a picnic at home for friends and family or simply marveling over your town’s fireworks display, here are some simple ways to add green to your red, white, and blue celebration.

Food choices

Throwing a picnic or having a BBQ on the Fourth? Choose locally grown, organic produce. Also, consider offering a vegetarian option, such as veggie burgers. Want to know how the foods you are buying measure up? Visit the Center for Informed Food Choices’ Web site at http://www.appetiteforprofit.com.

If your picnic involves grilling, consider using sustainably produced charcoal. Some varieties are made from industrial scrap wood, while others are produced using clean energy turbine heat. Look for eco-friendly brands like Wicked Good Charcoal and Kingsford Charwood.

Disposables

Disposable plastics can remain in the environment for hundreds of years. Your party can be just as much fun and more environmentally friendly when you serve food on regular reusable plates. Add a touch of patriotic color with red, white, or blue cloth napkins. Skip the plastic forks and opt for metal utensils instead. Ask a couple of teens to help you wash dishes after everyone has finished eating if you are worried about the mess. Most people are glad to help, especially when they know their small gestures are helping the environment.

Clearly label recycling bins and place them in an obvious spot so guests will use them. Avoid plastic and glass bottles; instead, have an abundance of filtered tap water and ice on hand.

Something to Celebrate

It was two weeks after the Fourth of July, but my friend Geoff was wearing a hat with two American flags waving in the breeze. “Today’s my July 4th,” Geoff explained. After attending seminary, marrying, having a child, and working in the United States for more than a decade, Geoff, a native of Australia, had been sworn in that morning as an American citizen. About seventy-five friends had gathered in his inner-city backyard to celebrate.

Geoff and his beautiful wife, Sherry, are urban pioneers, living and working among the poor and sharing the creation-care gospel wherever they go. Their latest project is an urban garden, part of a racial reconciliation effort by the local Episcopalian church, which centuries ago excluded African Americans from being buried in the adjoining cemetery. Now the garden plot is being shared by a diverse group of neighbors working together in the garden as God intended, while providing fresh, organic vegetables to a local after-school program.

For the citizenship celebration, Sherry and Geoff borrowed plates from their church to lessen the amount of trash, but more people from the neighborhood showed up than expected. Matthew and I scraped food waste into the compost and washed dishes, so we didn’t have to resort to Styrofoam plates. With a little forethought by the hosts, and some great kitchen conversations while we washed and dried dishes, we were able to keep the environmental impact of the party to a minimum while celebrating Geoff's citizenship with an all-American barbecue.

Fireworks

Fireworks are bad for the planet. They fill the air with gunpowder, heavy metals, and accelerants. They are often unsafe as well as costly. A home fireworks display can cost anywhere from $500 to $1,000 for fifteen minutes.

This year, cut out fireworks and sparklers from your budget and enjoy a nearby display at a park. At home, make other colorful decorations like ribbon streamers, from recycled newspapers.

Ready to take action? Consider talking to your local fireworks authorities about using Sekon biodegradable fireworks next year. This is the gunpowder-free, compressed-air technology that Disney now uses in its fireworks displays.

Nancy Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Program Director and resides with her husband, Matthew, in Wilmore, KY.

Sharing our faith and environmental journeys with the world feels a bit like walking into the store naked. On videotape. Broadcast internationally.

It all began with two simple questions.

A few years back, my husband was a well-respected physician at the top of his career—director of emergency services and chief of medical staff. He loved taking care of patients, and I loved caring for our family. We lived with our children, Clark and Emma, in a picture-perfect town in a three-story New England house, complete with library, guest suite, and four bathrooms. Our kids took sailing lessons in the summer and skied in the winter. We ate lobster fresh from the wharf. We were enjoying the good life and living out the American dream.

But something was missing. We had all the nice things that were supposed to make us happy, yet at the core we still felt hollow.

Then, during the course of one week, Matthew admitted three different women to the hospital—all in their thirties, all with breast cancer, all destined to die. One woman seized uncontrollably, and Matthew could not stabilize her. He had to go out to the waiting room and tell her husband, who had a toddler on one hip and a little girl holding his hand, that his wife was gone. Matthew did what any compassionate doctor would do: he hugged the young dad, and they cried together.

That night, Matthew came home visibly upset. He said that it was time to stop “running for the cure” and start looking for the cause.

Around this time, we went on a family vacation to a barrier island off the coast of Florida. The island is idyllic—no cars, no roads, no stores—just sun, surf and beautiful sunsets. After playing in the ocean all day and running around trying to catch geckos, the kids went to bed early, exhausted. Adult time, at last! Matthew and I relaxed on the upstairs deck, watching the palm trees waving in a cool breeze and enjoying the silence of the stars.

We stayed like that, just sitting in the tropical moonlight, for a long time. I couldn’t help but compare the peacefulness of the night air with the busyness of our lives back home. So rarely did we have time to stop and think, to discuss the big questions of life. Our conversation rambled from art and music, to books we were reading, to the state of the world.

And then I asked two questions that would change our lives forever.

“What do you think is the biggest problem facing the world today?”

I could just see the wheels whirling in Matthew’s head: Hunger? Poverty? War? AIDS? There was no shortage of potential answers.

After a few minutes, Matthew offered a reply that I was not expecting: “The world is dying.”

The more we talked about the demise of the planet, the more depressing it all felt. The problems seemed so overwhelming.

That’s when I asked the second, more difficult, question:

“If the planet is dying, what are we going to do about it?”

What kind of crazy wife asks questions like that on vacation? But I’m glad I did. It changed our lives. For the better. A couple of months later, my husband did get back to me on that second question—with an answer I wasn’t prepared to hear.

“I’ll quit my job,” he said, “and put all my energy toward saving the planet.”

“Are you sure we need to do that much?” I asked.

I had always thought of myself as a good environmentalist. But giving up a career that my husband clearly loved, as well as the prestige, steady income, and security that came along with it, to “save the planet”?

The thought terrified me. My stomach churned just thinking about what we might lose—our beautiful home, our harborside neighborhood, our vacations, not to mention health benefits and a retirement plan.

The selfish part of me began to whine: What about the three years of undergraduate school, four years of medical school, and three years of residency we had gone through together? Wouldn’t he be wasting all that training? And then there were practical concerns: The kids were approaching their teen years. College was just around the corner. How would we possibly save enough money to pay for their education if our income dropped suddenly to zero? How, for that matter, would we put food on the table?

Each of my arguments sounded logical on its own. In the material world, my husband’s sudden career change made no sense. Walking in faith may sound good in theory, that is when it happens to other people and everything turns out okay in the end. But I was terrified to take the first step.

When we travel around the country sharing our story, people always ask us what inspired us to change. Were there any arguments? Of course! How did the kids react? Like teenagers! What was the reaction from our family and friends? Bewilderment.

The transition—as much emotional and spiritual as physical—took a couple of years. One of the very first things we did was to take inventory and measure our ecological footprint. When we actually calculated our total use of resources, we found ourselves exactly average for Americans: not bad for a physician’s family—since in general the more income people have, the more resources they consume. Yet, we were clearly using more than our fair share on a global scale: six times more energy than our neighbors around the world!

Providentially, as we embarked on our environmental journey, we also began a faith journey. It seemed—at least to us—that the two were inseparable. Coming from two different faith backgrounds, Matthew and I began reading a range of sacred texts; all offered wisdom, but not the truths we were looking for.

One slow night in the hospital, Matthew picked up an orange Gideon’s Bible in the waiting room. He read through one of the Gospels. A light came on—here were the answers we had been seeking.

One by one, the whole family became believers. Suddenly, we had a clear purpose: to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. One way that we could show our love for the Creator, and for our global neighbors, was to start taking better care of the planet.

Over the next couple of years, we downsized our lifestyle, giving away half of our possessions and moving to a house the size of our old garage. Contrary to my earlier fears, we found that the more we “gave up” in material things, the more we gained in family unity, purpose, and joy. Eventually, through many small changes, we reduced our electricity usage and trash production by nine-tenths and our fossil fuel usage by two-thirds. By gradually adjusting our thermostat, we saved more than a thousand dollars in heating and cooling bills. Hanging our clothes on the line, changing lightbulbs, working from home, eliminating impulse purchases, and vacationing at state parks saved thousands more.

After we had our own house in order, we felt called to share our journey. Letters poured in from supporters who felt called to change but didn’t know where to start. Invitations to speak, preach, and lead workshops came from Washington, D.C. to Washington State, from every denomination and faith, from churches with ten members to tens of thousands. People were inspired to change; now they wanted to know how.

This is why I love sharing the practical side of going green from a Christian perspective. And why my hands are sweaty and my foot keeps tapping as I anxiously prep for the avalanche of interviews in the coming month!

Caring for the earth is a journey. We can’t all do everything. But everyone can do something. Even if it means getting out of our comfort zone—way out. Beginning today.

Nancy Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Program Director and resides with her husband, Matthew, in Wilmore, KY.

Late last fall, I went for a bike ride just before sundown. At the entrance to the park was a long, fairly steep hill. A family was out for a walk. The parents were pushing a stroller, and a set of twins, a boy and a girl about seven years old, rode ahead on their bikes, stopping and waiting now and then for Mom and Dad to catch up.

The little girl on the miniature two-wheeler reminded me a lot of my daughter, Emma, at that age. She clearly delighted in all her senses. So when I heard a piercing and prolonged squeal, I knew nothing was wrong. Quite the contrary, everything was exquisitely right. This little girl was yelling because the sun was streaming red ribbons across the sky, because the fields surrounding us, with the first fallen leaves, smelled like autumn, because she was coasting down a huge hill with her brother at her side. God was smiling on her, and all was right in the world.

After the first unashamed shouts of delight, the little girl added words to her exuberance: “Wind in my hair! Wind in my hair! Wind in my hair!” 

Her cry reminded me of Psalm 19:1, so full of the earth’s praise and delight: The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. I could almost hear the trees and birds shout alongside this little girl: Wind in my leaves! Wind in my branches! Wind under my wings! Praise God!

I passed the girl and her brother several times on my loops around the park. Neither her enthusiasm nor her voice ever flagged. When I pedaled back home, I thanked God for screaming little girls and the renewing beauty of his creation.

We Can’t Love What We Don’t Know

These children are fortunate, but they are the exceptions. The average child in the United States spends only thirty minutes of unstructured time outdoors each week. Children ages three to twelve spend 1 percent of their time outdoors and 27 percent of their time in front of televisions, computers, or other electronic media.

And it’s not just kids. A recent study by the University of Illinois found that Americans spend 25 percent less time in nature than we did just two decades ago.

Many children and adults today are overstimulated—obsessed with computer games, Facebook, and technology. These activities are not bad in themselves, but they can be harmful to our relationship with God if they are a primary focus of our time and attention. In Last Child in the Woods, author Richard Louv describes how “green time,” unstructured time outside in nature, has been taken over by “screen time,” time spent in front of an electronic screen.1 Research has shown that excessive television watching contributes to obesity, violence, and lower intelligence in children. In contrast, children who spend time outside have lower stress levels, greater respect for themselves and others, and play more creatively.

Wings and Roots

When our kids were preschoolers, we took them to the town band concert every Wednesday evening. We brought a blanket, a simple picnic, and a couple of lawn chairs. The children ran around and danced, while the adults enjoyed the music under the towering maples and starlit sky.

When our kids got a little older, they were able to walk by themselves to the school playground behind our house and the church playground across the street. We chose not to purchase a swing set for our backyard; instead, Clark and Emma enjoyed hundreds of hours playing on our next-door neighbor’s rope swing, which hung from a tall tree branch along the pathway adjoining our yards.

Though our lot was small, a stream flowed along the back border. Beyond the stream were two acres of town-owned forest. This woodland was not exactly a vast wilderness, but it was big enough to provide unlimited exploration and fun. Clark and Emma played nearly every day in the woods and stream, digging for treasure, building forts, staging sword fights, and leaving morsels of food in fairy houses.

During the summer, they climbed trees. In the fall, they jumped in soft piles of leaves. In the winter, they built snow mazes. And in the spring, they sailed twig-and-leaf boats down the gushing stream.

Whenever I couldn’t find Clark, I knew to look up. More than half the time, he and his best buddy were sitting in the branches of a nearby tree. Yes, they often climbed too high for Mommy’s comfort, but that’s part of the growing up—and letting go—process. Outdoor play helped my apron strings loosen gradually, allowing our kids to grow into independent adults who do not need to be entertained 24/7 or have every moment of their lives scheduled.

Last summer, Clark went back to visit our old neighborhood. The rope swing is still there for the next generation of children to enjoy. Clark, now well over 6 feet tall and 185 pounds, could not resist taking a running leap and sailing far out over the neighbor’s lawn. His crash landing into the tree trunk brought back happy memories—along with a few familiar bruises—and the sometimes painful pleasures of a childhood well spent.

Green Teens

The real test, of course, is what habits your children take with them when they become teens and young adults. 

Clark is now twenty years old, a first-year medical student studying to become a missionary doctor. Despite the demands of medical school, he spends at least two hours outdoors each day—about twenty-eight times the national average. Clark lives downtown in a large city, but he quickly discovered all the green spaces. Armed with a pocketful of note cards, he memorizes anatomy and biochemistry facts while going on long walks. Though he does own a car, a miserly Geo Metro, he only used half a tank of gas between August and December. Instead, Clark prefers to ride his bike—often as fast as driving in the city and always a better vehicle for appreciating the beauty of God’s nature.

Our daughter Emma, now eighteen, became so convicted by God’s first commandment to humanity in Genesis 2:15—to tend and protect the Garden—that she wrote a book for teens about becoming better stewards of creation. In spring 2008, Zondervan/Youth Specialties published the book, It’s Easy Being Green: One Student’s Guide to Serving God and Saving the Planet (www.itsezbeinggreen.org). Here’s what Emma says about her generation’s role in preserving the beauty of God’s creation: 

Like that little train [in The Little Engine That Could], we may feel like there’s a huge mountain standing between us and the greener world we long for. But Jesus had a few words for us about mountains. In Matthew 17:20, he says, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” 

With faith in God, nothing is impossible. Living a green life is within the reach of every one of us. I think you can. God thinks you can. 

[. . .] My hope is that [when the next generation sees us, they’ll] see a generation that took its choices seriously, that placed its faith in God, and found the strength to climb the highest mountain. 

My hope is that they’ll see a little generation that did.

Emma’s words offer me great optimism, but what gives me even more hope are her actions. Last semester, Emma and her college roommate both brought drying racks to school. In their tiny dorm room, they managed to air dry all of their clothes—saving five pounds of coal and greenhouse gases per load. Because it takes both of their racks to dry one load, they needed to plan ahead and coordinate their clothes washing schedules. In exchange for this small inconvenience, they were able to avoid furthering the rapacious coal mining practices (coal produces 90 percent of the electricity in our region) that destroy God’s mountains.

Jesus Taught on Field Trips

Like Jesus, we all need frequent visits to green pasture and still waters to renew our souls. Jesus retreated to the wilderness, gave sermons on a mountain, and camped out on the edge of the Jordan River. 

My favorite hike is along another river, about two miles from my home. I like it because I can get there on foot, and once I hike beyond the main road, I rarely see another human. Most of all, it’s time spent in the harmonious God-created world, not the jarring man-created world. 

On this hike, the easy part comes first; I hike down for the view. The view is not some grand vista—just a gently moving river. Always I find the river to be quietly comforting. Deep in prayer on one such hike, as I trudged back up the hill, I found myself startled by a bumblebee buzzing around my head. In between my footsteps, muffled by leafy carpets, I heard the starlings singing. They seemed to be saying, “This is God’s woods; not yours, not mine.”

I recently read a passage by the visionary twentieth-century Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Trained as a geologist and paleontologist, Teilhard argued that animals know but that man knows that he knows. In other words, it’s our ability to reflect that makes us more than a successful extension of the squirrels I heard chattering above me in the woods.

And yet, though we are “smarter,” animals have much to teach us. Watching those squirrels jump from branch to branch reminds me that every step I take is no less a leap of faith. The squirrels’ seemingly impossible acrobatics are only made possible by the very same hand that holds me up every moment of every day. We, like these forest creatures, must place our ultimate trust in God, in much the same way our sons and daughters rely upon us.

The walk in the woods teaches me what animals—and children—instinctively know: that God’s sustaining beauty is fully present all around us, if only we pause long enough to see.

Like the young girl I watched riding her bike, we all need to spend more time with God’s wind in our hair. We can’t love what we don’t know. Neither can future generations, especially if we leave them a legacy of mercury-filled waters and polluted pastures. 

The more time I spend in God’s garden, the more called I feel to tend and protect the beautiful world that he created for our use—not abuse—and for our enjoyment.

For the Beauty of God’s Earth
Lord, help me to recognize your hand in the physical world—from the fireball that rises in the east to the stars too numerous to count. Teach me to see your creation as evidence of the unseen hand that guides our every moment. Open my mind to the lessons you inscribe in every living thing. Fill my heart with gratitude for every sunset and every moonrise in the cosmos that you love so dearly. Fortify me with the wonder of a child and the wisdom of my elders, so that I may serve and preserve the beauty of your earth.

Lord, help me today to:

• research local parks and outdoor activities that my family might enjoy
• spend at least five minutes quietly in nature, to be still and know that you are God.
• check the weather forecast and schedule a good night for viewing stars
• exercise outdoors for at least fifteen minutes

Lord, help me this month to:

• mount a bird feeder
• engage in an activity outside that I enjoyed as a child—swinging on a swing set, rolling down a hill, playing catch, climbing a tree, horseback riding
• plan a camping trip or overnight visit to a park
• go biking or hiking with my family

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The words of Charles Dickens are something Americans should consider during an economic season that bloodies Wall Street daily. No doubt, these are hard times for Americansmany families. Lost jobs. Home foreclosures. Plummeting retirement funds. Parents’ inability to send young people to collegeFewer people being able to afford to send their kids to college. But there is a silver lining: Nothing could be better for the planet than the current economic downturn. That many people are e motivation for cutting back is mostly back might for  be economic reasons, which is fair enough, but, but the result is clear: a cleaner planet. Less consumption, less trash, less waste, and less harm to the air and water is good news for humans and every other plant and creatures for humans and the thousands of other species that inhabit the earth. People are driving less, buying less Starbucks coffee in throwaway cups, taking vacations closer to home--all the lifestyle changes that environmentalists have been recommending for years. It’s as if we couldn’t put the brakes on ourselves, so market forces (or God (or market forces, or The G-20, depending on your world view) have brought our runaway consumption to a halt for us. We should all beWhile I am heartbroken for all the lost American families who have lost jobs, Turn on any news broadcast and these perils elicit our utmost support around these individuals and families. I do have to rejoice, however, at some very positive trends.

My electricity bill last month was $16, including taxes and transmission fees. My son’s bill in his downtown apartment was $12, including electric heat.  As Asbury College President Sandra Gray recently pointed out to me, “conserve” is at the root of “conservative.” While traveling throughout the Bible belt and across the country sharing how our family reduced our electricity usage by nine-tenths and fossil fuel use by two-thirds, I am inspired by the stories I hear.  

We are witnessing a new wave of families, not waiting for government or business to take action, but going green and saving green at home. They’re, relying on good old-fashioned ingenuity and wisdom from our grandparents. Families are learning to sew so they can mend their own clothes and make curtains to cut down on energy costs. Ball and Kerr canning and preserving products at Jarden Corp. are up more than 30% from 2008. According to the National Gardening Association, 7 million more households will grow fruits and vegetables this year, representing a 19% increase since 2008. 

Believe it or not, my husband and I are traveling environmental ministers. Yes, it’s a bizarre concept in today’s culture. But most people pause when they hear that my electricity bill last month was $16, including taxes and transmission fees. My son’s bill in his downtown apartment was $12, including electric heat. While traveling throughout the Bible belt and across the country sharing how our family reduced our electricity usage by nine-tenths and fossil fuel use by two-thirds, I am inspired by the stories I hear from everyday people.

An organization called Good Works in Athens, OH, is starting a gardening outreach program, helping families learn how to grow their own food in their own backyards. In Lexington, KY, Communality, a church group who lives among and serves the poor, is teaching urban homesteading skills at a house for unwed mothers, organizing several urban gardens in a part of the city where unemployment rates approach 30%, and planting urban orchards to feed future generations.

The janitor at our local church has started raising chickens, making free-range eggs available to a dozen families while bringing in extra cash for his own. At $1.75 per dozen, we all come out ahead: Once you have tasted a fresh egg, there is no turning back.

My husband used to serve as the chief of staff at a large hospital in New England. He and many experts are linking the huge increase in our exposure to hormones in foods such as meat and milk to the epidemic of reproductive cancers. The antibiotics used in factory farms result in bacteria that require more and more powerful antibiotics to control illnesses.

Last Saturday, more than 1,100 pounds of beef (hormone- and antibiotic-free, grass-fed) was delivered to my house. When I sent out an email to a few friends saying I was looking into sharing a cow at $2.50 per pound, I had so many calls, we had to up the order to two beef cattle. Not only is this meat less expensive and healthier for our families, it’s healthier for the earth. 

My husband is a physician.  He and many experts are linking the huge increase in our exposure to hormones in foods such as meat and milk to the epidemic of reproductive cancers. The antibiotics used in factory farms result in bacteria that require more and more powerful antibiotics to control illnesses.  An added bonus: the conversations that occurred on my front yard while we were dividing up the beef resulted in a new community of friends who are making lifestyle changes to save money while saving the planet.

Many people think that going green is just for what Ken Silvestri, a real estate professional in Lexington, KY, affectionately refers to as  “guppies”—green urban professionals. In reality, according to Tightwad Gazette guru Amy Dacyczyn, frugality and green living overlap about 90% of the time.  . Most of the savings come in what we are not doing—canceling the cable contract and instead spending more time outdoors; eating home cooked meals instead of eating out; visiting the library instead of buying books that get read once and then gather dust. 

According to Ryan Bennett, a United Methodist Pastor in Pleasant View, TN, whose congregation is going green for both economic and biblical stewardship reasons, all of these lifestyle changes “result in less focus on the material world and more on family, friends, and spiritual growth.”

President Obama and other world leaders recently met in London to get us back to business as usual. If we invest in an infrastructure that will let us waste less in the future, greatfine.  . But we cannot have a GNP that grows infinitely. Our whole economic model is based on unlimited growth--population, consumption, goods and services. Look around: That model is no longer sustainable, and we need to shift to an economy that will be more just globally and leave a decent planet for generations to come.

The good news: An economic downturn is an environmental upturn.  What’s good for our pocketbooks is good for the earth. This Earth Day, start a garden, plant an apple tree, and eat at home. We can all save money while helping to save the earth.

Congress can’t send a bailout check to Mother Nature, but we can send her a humble donation with baby steps on our part. This Earth Day resolve to start a small patio garden, walk or bike to work, or eat at home. We can all save money while helping to save the earth.

Nancy Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Program Director and resides with her husband, Matthew, in Wilmore, KY.

If I can learn to garden, anyone can.

I grew up in the suburbs. Every spring, I helped my mom plant annuals—petunias in our sunny beds, impatiens in the shade, and a few geraniums in planters. One of my chores was to deadhead the flowers—especially the petunias. Pinching back the dead blooms and leggy stems always left a sticky residue on the tips of my fingers, and the smell of summer under my fingernails.

In early summer, my dad had a load of steaming mulch dumped in our driveway. It was the children’s job to shovel the mulch into the wheelbarrow and spread it evenly around the trees and bushes. I know that everything looks bigger to a youngster’s eyes, but that pile of mulch seemed endless. When we finally scraped up the last shovelful, our yard looked perfect, but I was too tuckered out to play.

By the time I was twelve or thirteen, I discovered a way to avoid most outdoor work. Mom would rather weed in the sunshine than be tied to the kitchen. So I traded outside chores for fixing dinner. I wish I could say that my motives were altruistic, but the truth is that I enjoyed cooking infinitely more than mowing and raking.

I was twenty years old when Matthew and I married—by then skillful in the kitchen, but still with no desire to be a gardener. For the first seven years of our marriage, we mostly lived in apartments where gardening was not an option anyway.

My attitude adjustment occurred during Matthew’s residency, when each family was provided with a modest house to live in for three years. Our next-door neighbors had been raised in a Mennonite farming community. Thinking it would be fun to grow some of our own food with our young children, we decided to start a garden together—they would share their knowledge, and I would weed and water.

The house we were assigned already had a small garden plot adjacent to the garage. I planted easy-to-grow carrots, tomatoes, radishes, and peas—not enough to feed a family, but the look on Clark’s face when he pulled up his first carrot was payment enough for my meager effort. Later we added corn and squash in my neighbor’s plot. Growing food fit my frugal nature, and it got me out of the house. I was hooked.

After Matthew finished his residency, we moved to northern New England. Although the growing season there is short, people plant magnificent perennial gardens. Thanks to generous neighbors who offered to give me divisions from their plants, I was able to plant a spring-to-fall succession of blooms—bluets, violets, and bleeding hearts in spring, followed by hostas, daisies, lilies, bee balm, peonies, and black-eyed Susans, culminating in our annual first-day-of-school photograph in front of the lavishly blooming rose of Sharon.

Learning to work with perennials saved me money—most were free clippings from my neighbors, or inexpensive divisions from the yearly school fund-raiser plant sales—and kept many dozens of throwaway plastic plant containers out of the landfill. Next to my vegetable garden, I planted blueberry bushes and a small orchard of apple and pear trees. Our next-door neighbor told Emma that eating a lot of blueberries helped keep her eyes blue. Emma believed him, so we always saved blueberries to harvest on her August birthday.

The biggest shift in my gardening practices, however, came when we built our house in New Hampshire. I went totally native. Instead of planting grass, I sowed two-thirds of an acre with wildflower seed. The field thrived and attracted wildlife—birds, fox, deer, wild turkeys . . . and tourists. Strangers stopped to ask if they could photograph and paint the field. Neighbors were invited to pick bouquets. Churches used our wildflowers for special occasions.

As a housewarming present, two friends helped us construct raised beds for my vegetable garden. The vegetable garden was so successful the first summer that we decided to double it in size the next, and double it again the next. By the third year, we were growing enough potatoes, carrots, onions, and tomatoes to last year-round. Clark and Emma often weeded with me in the cool stillness of early morning. Matthew used our pressure cooker to can our bounty. It was a family enterprise.

In late winter, I started most of my plants indoors along the south windows of the house. Several neighbors and I bartered over successful seedlings; one summer I was on the receiving end of luscious and prolific yellow pear tomatoes. We were also fortunate to have a family-run organic nursery just up the road, so I could always grab a few plants to fill any gaps.

When we moved to Kentucky, one of my first priorities was preparing a small organic garden on the south side of our house. A friend of a friend donated a truckload of well-aged organic manure. We now use the garden for teaching college students basic gardening skills: how to prepare the earth with compost, rake out the beds, plant the seeds, water and weed, and—finally—harvest, cook, preserve, and feast. When I work with the students, sometimes I get the feeling that I’m an impostor—I still feel very much like an amateur gardener, with so much yet to learn.

Matthew’s family grew the majority of their vegetables, fruit, eggs, chicken, and milk for economic reasons. For a long while, gardening brought back not-so-fond memories for him—of picking potato bugs off plants and endless weeding wars. But recently, Matthew has happily joined me in the garden.

Come evening, when we work in comfortable silence among the rows, it feels like Paradise restored: just as God intended, husband and wife together, tending and caring for the Lord’s earthly garden.

Upon receiving a missive from our daughter, Emma, and our son's girlfriend, Val, in India, a friend just wrote to me:

After reading the bit about the mosquito bites, I have to ask you, altogether seriously, how are you doing???

Thank you for asking, Mattie. Emma has such a blistering mass on her arm that the doctor she is working with asked if she had a rash. And Val, our son's girlfriend, has more than dozen bites on her eyelids.

I would be lying if I said I never worry, but I am amazingly okay. I know they are doing the Lord's work. I have seen over the last two months that God has protected them in every situation, including visits in the slums with the terminally ill--people that no one else, even their family members, will touch. They have survived pressure to idol worship and a five-day road trip and sleeping on stone floors and not having clean water.  Val has become a sister to Emma, and they are being stretched in amazing ways each day. I pray constantly for God's protection and for her continued spiritual growth. It is a great comfort to me when friends say they have been praying for her, too. 

The hardest part is when we've had five to seven day stretches with no news at all. Not hearing their voices for two months now has been hard, too. When I receive an email from Emma or Val, I see so much growth, such miraculous transformations, that I know they are exactly where God wants them to be.

I'll close with an excerpt from an email that Val sent to me last night:

I think maybe spring has come to Chennai?? It's rather difficult to tell. But yesterday I experienced something I thought I never would experience here: rain! Yesterday was the Dean Foundation's 11th birthday so, to celebrate, we went to the beach in the evening. Around 10:00 or so we felt a few drops come splattering down and there were fits and bursts of a spring shower through the rest of the evening. Not exactly a monsoon, but still, rain in India! It was also the first time I have ever seen clouds in Chennai. It was overcast the entire day which was eerie because I've never seen it before, but wonderful because it cooled things off marvelously.

For the Dean Foundation's birthday, we went to a different beach at 6:00 in the morning, passed out pamphlets, and conducted a free medical clinic. Emma met a gentleman who told her that her eyes were stunning and "had a touch of the divine." When she told him her name was 'Emma' he said, "Oh, as in the Jane Austen Novel?" Come to find out, this man is an English professor at a local university. He was the epitome of a Jane Austen gentleman--Indian style. Emma and I were able to talk about the Dean Foundation's hospice work to a surprisingly large amount of people. Those walking the beach were not hostile at all about us approaching them like people in the US might be.

I really enjoyed the evening on the beach. Like I've mentioned before, it's heart-breaking to see the amount of garbage strewn all over such a beautiful area, but the ocean combined with the sand and night sky are serene and calming. We had a 'picnic' (not your grandma's picnic let me tell you) on the beach, I played my violin, and we told stories including stories of Greek mythology from Emma and stories about your husband from me (okay, it might seem strange that I was the one telling stories about Dr. Sleeth, but no one else was taking the lead in the story-telling, and they're some of the most interesting stories I know!). Dr. Nambudripad and Dr. Grace in particular appreciated tales from the life and times of Dr. Sleeth.

I can only imagine the stories that Val and Emma will have to share when they come home in May.

And she was right. Within a couple of years, I couldn’t read the road signs quite as easily, especially at night. The arches of my feet started to ache if I didn’t wear shoes with good support. And my clothes seemed to shrink all at once—or was that my waistline growing?

A new prescription for my glasses and a pair of good insoles took care of the first two problems, but what about the extra inches? One of the perks of my new teaching job at an independent boarding school was free food for my entire family: three meals a day, seven days a week. And this was no ordinary cafeteria—we had a wealthy international boarding population among our students, and they expected the best. I began to understand why my petite friend Cindy gained 7 pounds every time she went on a cruise!

One October morning, I headed to the school gym before morning chapel and eased into the pool. The water was cold—no wimpy swimmers in northern New England. After I swam a few laps, my eyes started to sting—I had forgotten that my eyes are unusually sensitive to pool water. And that’s when Mr. Golden, the boisterous, lovable art teacher, paddled over to my lane. 

“Come back tomorrow,” Mr. Golden said. “My ears are ba ipt type="text/javascript" src="/siteadmin/includes/javascript/tiny_mce/themes/advanced/langs/en.js"> // --> d—I can’t go under water anymore—I’ve got a great pair of goggles you can use.”

Reluctantly I came back the next day. And the next. And the next. 

I started eating a healthy breakfast and less at lunch and dinner. After New Year’s, I gave up chocolate, except on Sundays. I started gravitating toward the salad bar instead of the dessert line. When the days grew warmer, I went on long walks while the kids finished their after-school activities. 

By the time summer vacation arrived, my new eating and exercise habits were well established—and the extra inches around my middle had disappeared. 

Suddenly, my forties didn’t look so bad.

The basic principles of nutrition and health are a lot like the principles behind green living: Just as we need to be good stewards of the physical body God gave us, we need to take care of the physical planet that sustains all life. Both require some measure of discipline. Both result in major improvements when small changes are made over a period of time. And both bring joy—to us and our Creator.

At first, some eco-friendly changes seem about as inviting as a cold pool on a New England winter morning. But if you persist, making small changes over the course of a year or more, you will find yourself living in a healthier, more joy-filled home with less baggage weighing you down and more time for family, friends, and God.

Nancy Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Program Director and resides with her husband, Matthew, in Wilmore, KY.