Wonderings--January 4

Well after nearly two years I experienced the silence of an early morning and it was both familiar and yet it felt new. 

As I posted on Facebook this morning, Emma headed back to the classroom for the first time in a year and a half. She was up at 6:15 today and quietly roamed the house gathering her necessary school supplies. While she made lunch I could see the hint of a smile come across her face. With coffee in hand, she left the house. 

About a minute later, Jennifer kissed me good-bye, said good-bye to the dogs, and headed for her car. I handed her a cup of coffee as I held the dogs back from joining her in the front seat of her car. Then it was just me and the house felt so large and empty. 

I walked back into the house to see a pair of cute girls sitting at the door wondering why mom and Emma have left today. . . "I mean seriously this is not how our mornings go," they whispered to me. Instead of joining Emma on her bed or couch while she did virtual school work for a nap, they were relegated to their beds. I made a final cup of coffee for the morning and left. 

Closing the door to the house I reached for my AirPods to begin a new podcast as I 'commuted' to work across the parking lot. But as I opened the case, I paused. . . closing it I placed them in my pocket and looked out into our wooded backyard. 

I stood there for a moment when I remembered the spiritual teaching of Jim Finely. He works for the Center for Contemplation and Action and was formerly a student of Thomas Merton. As I share what Jim taught, I wonder if you might find your own space, as I did, to practice it? 

In the silence of the morning, an unfamiliar silence certainly, I sat down on the cold stone step and thought about a bible passage that came to mind. The words were familiar and also foundational for my spiritual walk in times like this. Psalm 46:10.

Jim teaches that we should read the verse by cutting the words apart and allowing space to mediate upon what each word or phrase means for us as guided by the Holy Spirit. It would look something like this: 

"Be still and know that I am God." 

"Be still and know that I am. . . "

"Be still and now. . . "

"Be still. . ."

"Be.. . "

Pausing between praises I sat there in the total stillness of my morning and soaked in the presence of God on a quiet, chilly, silent day. 

We are often in such a hurry. Our lives are so full of noise and presence. What would it look like today to just pause and practice something as simple as what I just outlined? I wonder what God and you might discover? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek