Busy, Busy, Busy

I'm not a bee but sometimes I think I need to be able to buzz about as speedily as one of these winged marvels in order to keep up with everything that's going on in my life right now.  It seems "the faster I go, the behinder I get."  I'm not sure who coined that phrase but I know it wasn't me.  That said, it really describes how my life feels right now.

So, what am I going to do about it?  I just spent a good part of my weekend at a professional conference where the speaker stressed the importance of mindfulness.  The phrase he used at the conference and in his book was "are we paying attention to what we're paying attention to?"  That should slow me down.

If I were really honest, I'd have to say that I'm paying attention to what's next; what needs to be done first; how much there still is that needs to be done; and how I can possibly manage to keep up with everything.  That's not exactly the kind of thinking that inspires peace or serenity.

On one wall in my home office here on my country mile hangs a beautiful picture that quotes the Scripture, "Be still and know  that I am God."  On another wall hangs a beautifully decorated motto that proclaims,

"Make time for quiet moments, 

As God whispers, 

And the world is loud."

It seems I've surrounded myself with the advice I now need most to hear.  My work is all about helping people to choose their next steps or to identify the changes they need to make in order for life to "work" for them.  I often encourage them to make time for silence to hear God, their Higher Power, or the Voice of the Universe (however they conceive of it). Perhaps I need to listen to myself, the wisdom I have picked up over the years and through my training, to find the serenity I'm missing.

Random Acts

A few weeks ago we grabbed a quick lunch at McDonald's while doing errands in town.  As we enjoyed our meal, I noticed a middle-aged couple give up the booth they had just snagged at the busiest time of the day to a much older couple, both using canes to walk, who were looking with dismay at the high stools that were the only available seating.  They obviously wouldn't have been able to perch on those stools and were visibly grateful when it turned out they wouldn't have to try.  I hope that the people who gave up their booth enjoyed their meal even more than they might have otherwise.

Seeing that, and reflecting on it as we were finishing up our own meal in the booth we had found earlier, probably was responsible for what happened next.  I glanced up to see a harried young mother with a baby on one hip and two or three year-old twins hanging on to her hand on the other side.  She was followed by a grandfatherly type of man who carried two diaper bags and held the hand of another young boy.  This harried Mom stood there scanning for a place to seat her family and was no doubt hoping for a booth to contain everything and everyone.   Even though we had to rush our meal's ending, I signalled to her that we were about to leave and left the last bits of my salad in the container so that we could vacate the booth quickly for her.  Her relieved smile lit up her eyes and was all the thanks we needed.  I relished the feeling of having been able to make her day a little easier.

Then a few days later something else happened.  I was very tired at the end of a long work week and had to pick up groceries in the evening before I could head for home.  My arthritic feet and chronically painful legs don't like large grocery stores with concrete floors, so I was feeling exhausted by the time I had finished shopping and was back at my car.  All I had to do yet was to move all those bags from the cart to the trunk ... and it felt like the biggest job in the world.  I took a deep breath, tossed my purse into the front seat, turned to --- oh my goodness!  A tall young man, about twenty or so, stood right in front of me.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he spoke with a bit of a southern accent, "I was just sitting in that vehicle across the way, waiting for a friend and I was wondering --"

Oh dear, he probably wanted money for a bus ticket, or a charity, or maybe some of my groceries.  Maybe he wanted to rob me and was going to insist I give him my purse?

"Well, I saw you come over here and I thought that instead of wasting my time texting, I could be putting your groceries in your car for you ... if you wouldn't mind, that is?"

Well!  I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped open and I could find nothing more brilliant to say than, "You're kidding?"

"If you wouldn't mind, ma'am, I'd be honoured to help you."

Then he proceeded to put all those bags of groceries into the trunk for me, chatting pleasantly about the make of my car and how his friend's parents drove a similar model.  When I thanked him, he said only, "I'm glad I was able to bless you.  You have a good evening, now."  And he strode back to a vehicle across the aisle with my "You certainly did bless me and God bless you, too," to send him on his way.

Since then, I've been intentionally looking for more opportunities to be a blessing for others.  The events of one week can really get you thinking about how you live and how you want to live.  I'm pretty sure I'm a pleasant and helpful person most of the time and respond appropriately when there's a need.  Now I want to be more alert for those moments, mainly because it feels so good to bless someone.  And I also know, thanks to a tall, thin stranger who blessed me with his strength and willingness to help, how good it feels to be on the receiving end.