Today was a quiet day. An intentionally quiet day. We opened the sanctuary doors at 9:00 a.m., set out some quasi-healthy snacks under the pergola, and provided some simple written resources so that a few too-busy people might take a step to the side this morning.
A step to the side of the road we call life – that increasingly busy highway of family/job/travel/ technology/you name it – that sometimes moves faster than we wish it would. So much motion leaves little space or time for us to b-r-e-a-t-h-e, to slow down, to be reflective, to listen.
Oh, how I need to listen! I’m so full of responsibilities, appointments, people I care deeply about (some of whom are in crisis of one kind or another), and my own peculiarly bedeviling health issues, that I sometimes think I’ve forgotten how to do that – to listen…quietly, alone and still. So today was a lovely, soothing, moving opportunity to un-kink a bit. To scribble down some thoughts, a few prayers, some confession, all of it offered up to God as a gift of child-like adoration.
Two of our grandchildren recently gave us art of their own creation and I was struck by two things: how pleased and proud they were to give them and how moved and pleased we were to get them. Do you suppose God sees our simple, child-like offerings like that? Oh, I hope so. I pray so.
