A picture of bucolic bliss extends into the field
surrounding our house this morning. A few brown and white cows stand, necks
bent as they graze the grass in the field they entered yesterday. Most of the
herd are lying down, contentedly chewing the cud.
There is a rhythm to their ingesting and digesting. A wisdom
to it. A peace about it.
It can be tempting to consume news and information
constantly, scrolling our news feeds and social media until we have information
indigestion.
I have a picture in my mind, a beautiful memory of my dad,
sitting in his chair in an evening, having watched some news, read a paper, and
then just sitting quietly, ruminating.
I am guilty of checking my To-Do list too often, of being
driven to endless activity. I know I’ve posted about this before. Martha, not
Mary.
Perhaps I need to add another bullet-point to that endless
list. Ruminate.
Lord, may I be attentive to your still, small voice today,
taking time to listen, reflect, hear, possibly understand – but at least, trust
that whatever mess I and the world are in, you are in it with us. In that
understanding, I find peace. Bucolic bliss.
No comments:
Post a Comment