Feeling a tiny bit smug today, because yesterday for the
first time in over a year I spent about two hours working outside in the
garden, with no detrimental effects to my back. I have missed it – though a
little of it goes a long way with me.
I’ve had a year of avoiding any kind of exertion which would
strain the prolapsed disk, so being unable to garden freed up lots of time to
do other things. Hmm. Maybe I could have written a novel during that spare
time. But I didn’t.
It’s been six months since my dear dog Dusty died, six
months without those twice daily walks which I sometimes found a chore, though
more often than not enjoyed. I miss my spontaneous laughter from seeing her
exuberant antics. I don’t miss walking in the foul weather but to be honest,
despite its reputation, the northeast of Scotland has many many days of
glorious beauty.
Maybe I could have written another novel during the time
freed up from dog walking. But I haven’t.
The Protestant ethic teaches us to make productive use of
our time, and I know I am certainly influenced by that ethic. Mhairi once gave
us a poem about having the time to sit and stare. My dad used to tell me to
take time to smell the roses. Jesus praised Mary for choosing the better way in
taking time to sit at his feet and absorb his presence and his teaching rather
than being harassed and grumpy in the kitchen.
For those who are blessed with choice of how we spend our
time, may we choose to spend it wisely, not always seeking to prove our worth
by what we have made, written or done, but taking time to sit and stare, to
smell the roses, to listen to our Lord and enjoy his presence.
Have a great day.
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