Journeying in the Now

    Often I will ask my students to write about "one moment in time that made a difference in your life."  Only to realize that I don't really take the time to live for the moment in mine.  Would I have difficulty writing this memoir?  So keeping in mind that patience is still a virtue and waiting is often best for the "moment,"  I have decided to slow down, breathe (deeply), appreciate the right now.  Sometimes I am so busy dealing with the "just happened" or contemplating the "what's to come" that I miss the "happening now." 

    
    So, as I began my 9.5 hour drive the other day, I decided to put myself to the test.  Gotta start somewhere.  This drive goes on forever and ever and ever and ever and ever.  I have always dreaded the going and the coming.  So instead of thinking about how far I'd gone or how far I had to go, I contemplated the present.  Right now I am here.  This is what is around me.  I will never be in this exact place again at this exact moment.  I am here (wherever here might be).  And I must admit it was quite eye-opening.  The anxiety slipped away and the moment slid into view. Amazingly,  I discover I am not dreading the long trip back.  That I do not feel so irritable or uptight. Liberating!

   And it begins - right now, in this moment - my journey on the road becomes a metaphor for my journey through life. God will navigate and I will drive, striving along the road to appreicate the moment, wherever it may find me.

A Connection

It's been awhile, but finally one of the "daily poems" stands out.  By attaching it to a poem by Dickenson, Espaillat seems to enhance the universal truth expressed.  This theme, feeling, emotion touches all - defies the ages.

“Find Work”

By Rhina P. Espaillat b. 1932

I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl—

Life's little duties do—precisely

As the very least

Were infinite—to me—

—Emily Dickinson, #443 

My mother’s mother, widowed very young
of her first love, and of that love’s first fruit,
moved through her father’s farm, her country tongue
and country heart anaesthetized and mute
with labor. So her kind was taught to do—
“Find work,” she would reply to every grief—
and her one dictum, whether false or true,
tolled heavy with her passionate belief.
Widowed again, with children, in her prime,
she spoke so little it was hard to bear
so much composure, such a truce with time
spent in the lifelong practice of despair.
But I recall her floors, scrubbed white as bone,
her dishes, and how painfully they shone.

Source: Poetry (February 1999).
My source

"Lost" in a Crowd

 This morning's sermon centered around the story of Zacchaeus.  C. Spencer presented the idea that in order to see Christ, Zacchaeus had to make the decision to move out of the crowd (in this case by climbing a tree).  I began to wonder how often we miss Christ or lose our view of him because we are blinded by the crowd.  The idea of one's being lost in a crowd begins to take on a whole new meaning.  Our being blinded by the crowd (or the company we keep) is no excuse.  We need to look to Christ daily, and when something, someone, or some action blocks our view, find the closest tree and climb!