As we wait for my husband and daughter to return for their mission trip, we reflect on our spring break week of being together: we baked and visited friends, we traveled to neighboring towns, we shopped and ate at a restaurant or two, entertained neighbors, new friends, and old friends, and accepted invitations for adventures. We cared for cats, walked a dog four times a day, had sleepovers, organized the house, painted, and watched television. We did it all!
And now? We wait and feel bored. But boredom is a trick of the mind–a longing for action without the motivation to do anything. But if you begin to do some task in the midst of being certain you don’t want to do that thing, you’ll find boredom leaving quickly.
We try it. We organize a space and feel creative and inspired again.
This morning I rejoiced in ordinary neighborhood living that makes my heart explode with delight.
- I walked my neighbor’s dog (the one named Peanut who looks just like a peanut) in the fresh snowfall and laughed at how the falling snow made a coat of cottony white that he didn’t shake off. Happy dogs in the snow represent a particularly joyful pleasure.
- I arranged bowls of blackberries for morning crepes, and as I cooked each delicate crepe, I noted the buttery, warm smell. I squeezed fresh lemons for drizzling. I put out powdered sugar and another bowl of sliced strawberries. I was so thankful for this feast.
- I called an early-rising neighbor over for coffee and crepes. She walked over in the snow without question. Seeing her form come closer down the sidewalk made my heart sing for the joys of friendship.
- I set my mind to the day’s task of shoveling snow, writing, and dinner preparation for a friend coming later. I rejoiced that God gives us daily work. What a privilege!
- I texted out the Morning Pep Talk to a struggling teen. I rejoiced that nobody has to struggle alone.
- And I finally thanked God for a fresh day and a fresh start. What a gift each day is!
When you walk in the early morning, you hear all the birds. And if you seek the origin of the beautiful songs, you find that the loudest songs that carry over the whole neighborhood come from the tiniest birds.
The small, hidden thing up in those branches, barely there, proclaims. With apparently no relation to size, visibility, beauty, or numbers, the sound astonishes with its power.
And I remember that small things, barely there, often proclaim the most significant, beautiful, powerful messages.
I apologize for the missing blog posts these past few days! My site was moving to a new hosting service, and with these sorts of things come disruption and lost posts. I’ve learned it’s all part of growth and good movement.
Disruption, it seems, has become a theme in my life and in the lives of so many people I know. It’s like we’re all in a season of disruption! You, too? Can anyone explain this?
A thought: Just this week, I read Tozer’s comments on the Holy Spirit being an agent of disruption. He discusses a common theme among people whose lives reflect amazing “God stories.” This theme? God’s work usually comes alongside uprooting, discomfort, and disruption. He writes, “When the Holy Spirit moves, He disrupts a person’s life.”
When the Holy Spirit moves, He disrupts a person’s life.
I realize the truth of it with joy and surrender. I welcome disruption, loss, uprooting, and discomfort. These changes often (though not always) represent great movements of God in a life. Oh, how I love the disruption of the Holy Spirit that shows me the loving, guiding, shaping work of God. I picture myself in His hands, uprooted and disrupted, but also at peace and enclosed by the One who hold us in complete safety.