The word
“Convenience” has been bouncing around my brain. It is generally used to mean
that something is suitable or doable with little effort or difficulty. A convenience
store is one that is open at hours when people might conceivably need a
specific item or items, and other stores are closed. The British frequently
call a room with a toilet a “convenience.”
To me, it means being able to do (or not do) things when I choose rather
than when I am compelled to do them.
Being retired,
sort of, I am enjoying living life as I want. Well, at least as I can. I can
get up when I want to, go to bed when I feel like it, take a nap every day if,
as my aunt would have said, “When the Spirit moves me,” clean the house when I
feel like it and so forth. I can come and go as I please, at times that are
convenient for me, but then there are things where convenience doesn’t always
come into play.
When is it
convenient? For example, my house needs vacuuming. I’ve got bunches of cat
place all over the floor that I could almost weave into a new carpet. But the
noise of the vacuum cleaner disturbs the cats. Gandhi doesn’t mind so much, and
sometimes even lets me groom him with the upholstery brush, but the noise
machine severely disconcerts the other two. I need to find a time when they are
inconvenienced as little as possible. That’s my job as a crazy cat lady,
convenient for me or not.
I guess I sometimes
see God as a kind of convenience store, open when I need something and find
that I can get it at the one place in town that’s open at that time of day or
night. I like the convenience of not having to drive five or 6 miles to the
bank to deposit a check. I appreciate the convenience of having a grocery store
about 2 miles down the road where I can order my groceries online and pick them
up without having to go into the store. It is convenient to fill out medical
forms and submit them before I have to be at the doctor's office. I like the
convenience of having fast food places close by that I can duck into if I
happen to be out and I get hungry. I enjoy the life of comfort, but I know
that, like eating lots of vanilla ice cream or chocolates, it isn’t good for me,
especially when it impacts my spiritual life.
There are lots of
people who find the time every day to do their meditations. These are people
who have busy lives; they work, entertain, participate in community activities,
and go to church. They lead full lives, yet they find time for God. It may mean
inconveniencing themselves somewhat, but it’s something that they feel they
need and that their spiritual life craves at the same time.
A lot of times, I
find myself praying at night when I struggle to go to sleep. I don’t always use
words, although many times I will lie there and remember people for whom I
should be praying and asking for guidance for my own mixed up life. But
sometimes just lying there and letting my mind focus on a word, open
parentheses my favorite is the word nothing), and wait for the silence to calm
my thoughts and put me in a more receptive state than I can usually manage
during the day. Lately, a mockingbird has kept me company in my night watches,
and as I focus on that, I think about God creating the birds and giving them
songs, but gifting the mockingbird with the ability to copy the songs of
others. Perhaps he is singing a love song or “stay off my property,” or “I’m
looking for a mate, have nest all ready.” But maybe it has some praise to God
in it too, the God, who watches over nests and brings male and female birds
together, protects their eggs when the parents are away, and subtly guiding the
thoughts of the young birds to the need to leave the nest and fly. Those are
good thoughts to have at night.
I think I need to
be more conscious of what needs to be done versus when I find it convenient.
The vacuuming isn’t going to do itself, nor am I going to schedule a prayer
time that doesn’t conflict with something else that I want or need to do. But
yet I do need to have some time set aside for conversation with God even if
neither of us says a word. Sometimes that is the greatest gift of communion,
confidence, and trust, that can happen between two beings. It happens with old
friends with whom I have had many conversations, and the relationship has
reached the point where we can sit in silence and be perfectly comfortable. I
feel that way with God now and then, and now I realize that I really need more
or of it than I’ve actually physically tried to let happen. But, I will do my
best to do those things that allow me to rest in God and give God a chance to
talk. At least, that won’t wake the
cats!
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, May 25, 2019.
No comments:
Post a Comment