at day's end

     At day’s end, I have an important choice to make: will I carry the day’s excitements and anxieties into the night, or will I leave them behind? Choosing to leave them behind takes practice, and sometimes I have to choose over and over again during the same night. Slowly, though, my nights are becoming a place and time for inward recollection--the gathering back together again of all the scattered parts of me--so that I can remember what I often forget during the hubbub of daytime: God is with me, so I am very safe.

“Gracious God, I seek Thy presence at the close of another day, beseeching Thee to create a little pool of heavenly peace within my heart ere I lie down to sleep. Let all the day’s excitements and anxieties now give place to a time of inward recollection, as I wait upon Thee and meditate upon Thy love.” John Baillie

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

WAIT: why am I talking?

    WAIT: why am I talking? I’ve been asking myself that question lately. Why did I choose to make that comment or ask that question or send that email? I’m asking in a light-hearted, simply-noticing way--more like an interested friend than the word police.

    Here’s what I notice. Sometimes I say things for very good reasons. Sometimes I say things just to get attention and affirmation. Sometimes I say things because I’m complaining on the inside and I want to complain on the outside, too. Sometimes I say things to fill gaps that make me uncomfortable. The more I practice simply noticing, the more I find myself gently choosing to wait.

“[B]e . . . slow to speak. . . .” James 1:19

savoring and saying thank-you

“You have made me glad by what You have done. I will sing for joy at the works of Your hands.” Psalm 92:4

    This morning, after I read those words, I closed my eyes and counted, rehearsed, and said thank-you for all the good that God has brought into my life in the past week. I replayed events, savoring. I relived. I re-enjoyed. Even in the hard and the heart-breaking, I saw and savored God’s good gifts to me and to my family.

    Then, to my surprise, the circle widened. I sat remembering things outside the small circle of me-and-mine. I saw and savored God’s good gifts to friends: the grandson expected; the long-awaited job; the new client; the evening of unexpected delight; the contentment in marriage. I shared their joy.

    This week, I will search (in texts and emails and phone calls and visits and meetings) for all the good that God will bring. I won’t limit my search to the small circle of me-and-mine. I will let the circle widen. I wonder how many good things I will have collected for next Sunday’s savoring and saying thank-you.

name the day

     I have been naming days all my life, but I never realized it. I used to do it at night, after the day was done. If nothing too challenging or painful had happened, I would name the day “good.” Otherwise, I would name it (more or less) “bad.” It all depended on the circumstances.

    Now I’m learning to do it differently. Instead of waiting to see what the day brings, I name it early in the morning, when it is fresh and new. For instance, I might name the day “thanks and praise.” No matter what happens as the day unfolds, the name doesn’t change. It is like a compass, reorienting me over and over again.

    Sometimes, especially when the going gets rough, I rename the day: I give up on “thanks and praise” and start to live as if the day were called “complaint and drudgery” or “fear and dread.” That’s okay, though, because I’ve learned a secret: I can hit the reset button and start the day over any time I choose, even if it’s eight o’clock at night.

“It is good to give thanks to the Lord and to sing praises to Your name. . . .” Psalm 92:1

“Every time we make a choice we are turning some deep and inner part of ourselves, the part of us that chooses, into something a little different than it was before. . . . [W]e are slowly turning this deep and inner part of ourselves into something that is in harmony with God and with God’s purposes in the world, or into something that is contrary to them. Each of us at each moment is progressing one way or the other.” Br. David Vryhof

here and now and always

    Some people think that God is somewhere up there, far away. If that is the whole truth, life here and now will be mostly a nose-to-the-grindstone, ho-hum business. But what if it isn’t the whole truth? What if God is also close--literally surrounding you right now as you read these words? What if all the energy and creativity and hope and friendship that we usually relegate to heaven (somewhere up there, far away and later) is instead here and now and always?

“[W]e stand here and now and always in the presence of the great Being . . . who fills and overflows all space, including the atmosphere around our body.” Dallas Willard

“Immanuel (God-with-us).” Isaiah 7:14

“[God] is not far from any one of us, for in Him we live and move and exist. . . .” Acts 17:27-28

you might be right

     A friend was happily planting her garden a few months ago when a complete stranger walked up and said, “Too late for that.” It made her angry (partly because she was afraid that it actually was too late to be planting). She sat there fuming. She felt like arguing with him, but instead she decided to say four healing words: “You might be right.” The man walked on down the street, and she went on happily planting her garden.

     She uses those four healing words a lot, and she says they work every time.

“A gentle response defuses anger, but a sharp tongue kindles a temper-fire.” Proverbs 15:1