Dear Friends ~ To everything there is a season— a time to work and a time to play, a time to strive and a time to rest, a time to set one's "eyes on the prize" and a time to pause and notice the wildflowers and others along the way. In our culture, achievement and productivity are valued as the benchmarks of success. If the answer to the question, "What do you do?" cannot be summed up in a job title or a listing of accomplishments, you are left feeling somehow hollow or having been dismissed as insignificant. Yet one can be just as negligent or distracted or untransformed in the busyness of work as in mundane pursuits or the ordinary activities of daily life. If the magic of music lies partly in the silent spaces between notes, the gift of grace may lie in the Sabbath moments between long hours of work and activity. Perhaps the way to find balance in this frenetic, compulsive culture is to perceive our lives not as straining to keep up with the tyranny of the marching drumbeat but attuning ourselves to the rhythm of the heartbeat— to focus not so much on making a living as composing a life and finding joy in its unfolding.
In 2000, while I was in the hospital for by-pass surgery, an old man called out for help each night. All the prayers for his comfort and quiet seemed to float away. One night I found myself saying,
"Old man, you are not going to be miserable this night. My soul is coming over and our souls are going out dancing!"
I don't have a rational explantion, I only know he was quiet that night, my soul uplifted. I believe our souls danced that night. The next day the old man died. Such is the power of Spirit in our lives.