Why is it that only when you are swamped with work do you find time to stop and smell the roses...or as it is in this case...stop and write a blog post? Don't I have more important things to do right now? Undoubtedly, yes, I do. Don't I have deadlines coming up of both the school-imposed and self-imposed varieties? Yes. So what's the deal? Why am I "wasting my time" writing about seemingly unimportant things?
Maybe that's why I'm writing: because I don't know the answer to that question, and I'm not entirely convinced this is an unimportant writing.
I think the better question here is: why do I not always make time to stop and smell the roses? We just returned from a retreat to Emily's (my best friend/sister/heterosexual life mate) family farm in Alabama this weekend, where we had mandatory "manna before manna" every morning...requiring us to get up, take a walk, get into the spiritual manna before we were allowed breakfast. I cannot begin to describe how calming it is to watch the mist rise over rolling hills, watch the sun burn through the night's leftover haze, listen to the birds awaken and start singing praises, listen to the soft crunch of grass and pine needles under my feet, and breathe in the beautiful morning air. And I'm not even a morning person...
We were forced to stop and smell the roses...or the grass, as it were...each morning this weekend, and yet when we came back here, I immediately fell willingly back into the grind of packing every moment with schoolwork or meaningless facebooking! (And yes, spell check, facebooking is a verb...time for you to play catch-up.) Do I have to flee the city and stay in an old farmhouse to relish waking up with the sun every morning? Do I have to abandon my schoolwork to take the time to take a walk? Sure, I walk every morning...from my parking deck, across two streets, down several sidewalks, and up cement stairs into my building, where I happily (or unhappily...depending on the day) remain. But I'm always rushing, always thinking of what car might hit me as I jaywalk, struggling to remember which level of the deck my car is on, where my keys are, and always always making sure I don't spill my morning coffee.
Not exactly smelling the roses, or crape myrtles lining the sidewalks.
I guess I just needed to sort out what it is that is so refreshing about a morning walk, a calm, quiet time before the world bustles awake...It's that sense of quiet companionship that I think all of us crave in one form or another. For some, a book and a cup of tea is perfect; for others, it's a dog; for more it's a date with someone special; for me, it's a walk alone in Creation with my Creator.
So here's the fun part: I want to see if you'll do this with me: I dare you to wake up before you have to and talk a walk, around your apartment complex, down your street, into a forest, wherever you are. If you're not so sure about the Creator bit, that's fine, just take the time to appreciate the morning. And I ask you to dare me to do the same. This means that I'll have to go to bed earlier than normal if I'm to walk before my 8am. Bad dare on my part? Somehow I still don't think so.
Maybe it's my procrastinator's spirit coming out, but I wish I took the time to stop and smell the proverbial roses more often than I do...because, really, they smell pretty dern good.
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