Mindful
“Mindful” by Mary Oliver
Every day / I see or hear / something / that more or less kills me / with delight, / that leaves me / like a needle in the haystack / of light. / It was what I was born for— / to look, to listen, to lose myself / inside this soft world— / to instruct myself / over and over in joy, / and acclamation. / Nor am I talking / about the exceptional, the fearful, the dreadful,/the very extravagant—/ but of the ordinary, /the common, the very drab, the daily presentations. / Oh, good scholar, / I say to myself, / how can you help but grow wise / with such teachings / as these— / the untrimmable light of the world, / the ocean's shine, / the prayers that are made / out of grass?
There is a lot going on at our church. The sanctuary and grounds are abuzz with activity. Our space is filled with the workings of so many good things “that more or less kill me with delight and leave me like a needle in the haystack of light.” It’s as if we’ve jumped out of the starting gate and already begun the preparations of Advent this year. We are clearing space, cleaning out, making room, repairing cracks, restoring brokenness, laying foundations, building up, preparing for something both extravagant and ordinary to join us, change us, challenge us, comfort us. And all this work we are doing is a form of prayer. It is a prayer of hope and expectation. It is a prayer that anticipates grace, extends welcome, and allows love to spill over our threshold. And the blessings are only beginning. I can’t wait to see what happens next!
See you in church,
Christy
Every day / I see or hear / something / that more or less kills me / with delight, / that leaves me / like a needle in the haystack / of light. / It was what I was born for— / to look, to listen, to lose myself / inside this soft world— / to instruct myself / over and over in joy, / and acclamation. / Nor am I talking / about the exceptional, the fearful, the dreadful,/the very extravagant—/ but of the ordinary, /the common, the very drab, the daily presentations. / Oh, good scholar, / I say to myself, / how can you help but grow wise / with such teachings / as these— / the untrimmable light of the world, / the ocean's shine, / the prayers that are made / out of grass?
There is a lot going on at our church. The sanctuary and grounds are abuzz with activity. Our space is filled with the workings of so many good things “that more or less kill me with delight and leave me like a needle in the haystack of light.” It’s as if we’ve jumped out of the starting gate and already begun the preparations of Advent this year. We are clearing space, cleaning out, making room, repairing cracks, restoring brokenness, laying foundations, building up, preparing for something both extravagant and ordinary to join us, change us, challenge us, comfort us. And all this work we are doing is a form of prayer. It is a prayer of hope and expectation. It is a prayer that anticipates grace, extends welcome, and allows love to spill over our threshold. And the blessings are only beginning. I can’t wait to see what happens next!
See you in church,
Christy