prayer
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
This week, we did another lectio divina in Spiritual Disciplines class using this Mary Oliver poem. In reflection now, almost a week later, it still speaks to me in this crazy, hectic week of mine.
Monday: two classes (including NT midterm bomb first thing in the morning), skipping the third to watch the Giants win the World Series.
Tuesday: chapel, one class, trip to San Francisco for the Dia de los Muertos parade.
Wednesday: trip to San Francisco for the Giants victory parade, washing dishes.
Thursday: meeting to figure out how to pay for remaining balance due to seminary for this semester, meeting with Financial Aid office, meeting for recap of Tuesday's parade, birthday shopping, washing dishes.
Friday: baking two cakes, a batch of cookies, washing dishes, soccer, set-up for Kelse's surprise birthday party, surprise birthday party.
I know that isn't all that I did. And I'm pretty sure I slept somewhere in there, but not nearly enough homework, and thus I have my OT midterm due on Monday and I haven't started it yet.
But in those tense moments, the ones where I felt most frazzled, I took a moment to stop and breathe. Of course, I had to remind myself to do this, or sometimes someone else had to remind me to do this, but a moment of silence and solace was a good opportunity to center myself. I know I couldn't have accomplished a lot without these moments. I suppose you could all them prayer, unnamed and unthought.
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