The Small Things...

I've been thinking about discipline, and how I need more of it in my life. That was my prayer request on Sunday - specifically, to have more discipline in my schoolwork and my spiritual life. I imagine this ideal flow of life where I devote time and attention to each of the areas that deserve it, and feel perfectly balanced and fulfilled.

I know that's never going to happen, but my accomplishment for the week? Doing dishes every day! This may not sound like much, but it feels so good to have a clean sink and counter instead of an intimidating pile. 

So maybe it is the small things, after all, that make the difference - or at least start us on that track to further discipline, or whatever it is that we're seeking. At least that's what I'm telling myself tonight :)

My clean sink! The dead flowers, those are for another day :)

A New Posture of Worship

What do you do with your hands during worship-time at church? I usually vacillate between gently beating out the tempo on the back of the pew in front of me, putting them in my back pockets if I'm wearing jeans, or occasionally lifting them up when something moves me.

Yesterday, I had a different experience. At the new church I've been attending, they offer hot beverages - and while usually only a "social" tea drinker, coming in from the bitter cold I welcomed having a steaming cup of tea to warm my hands.

As I joined in the worship time, my hands stayed wrapped around this fount of warmth, and taking the occasional sip I felt my whole body warming up. Singing words of seeking God and surrendering to God felt different from this posture - my hands were folded and still, but also open to receive and be filled. It felt as if I was offering something of myself up to God, and God was filling me in all parts of my being; symbolized by the warmth spreading throughout my body.

This gave me pause because for the first time in a long time I truly felt like I was being poured into, that I was receiving the spiritual nourishment that I hadn't even realized I'd been missing. But with a mug in my hands, I recognized that - and I was grateful.

What my hands probably looked like...
Courtesy of Beauty Haven

Like a Dandelion...

A wise boss/friend once gave me a framed picture of a dandelion as a parting gift. It was meant as a reminder that we, like this stubborn flower, should be placing ourselves in those harder places and tenaciously finding roots with which to grow and flourish.

Some would say that you can't find a "harder" place than the concrete sidewalks of Allison Hill...yet without fail all kinds of flowers (and weeds!) sprout up in the cracks those seeds somehow find. People, too, can flourish here - and as I continue to set down my roots, I find joy in wandering the cracked sidewalks of a place that has become my home.

Morning glories, another persistent flower/weed, encroaching on my sidewalk.
Courtesy of Micalagh Moritz