I should be paying bills. Or a whole host of other things. But instead I write, surrounded by resting dogs. Other than a few odds and ends, there’s nothing much on my plate for the rest of July. It’s a good feeling to have my gardening ‘hope desk’ commitments fulfilled; and as I’m on a writing holiday from Everyday God, I’ve been enjoying some time for leisurely writing and reading.
But yesterday, during a lull in phone calls at the ‘hope desk’, I was rocked out of my sweet lullaby to receive what may have been a small ”nudge’ of remembrance from Everyday God. The three of us on duty know each other fairly well from last fall’s master gardening classes, as we shared a common table and counselor, though both are light-years ahead of me in terms of gardening knowledge.
So we took advantage of the space to catch up on each others lives and gardens. During a brief pause in conversation, one friend asked after Daddy’s health. And while in the midst of sharing a short report of Dad’s good news, my other friend interrupted my story, in the hurried and breathless way that local weather forecasters preempt regular programing to inform its viewing audience that a tornado is breathing down their necks. I confess to doing this too often myself, so I had no problem with her interruption. I understand all too well how weighty thoughts can disappear if not given birth when ready to come into the world.
To my great surprise, she couldn’t wait to tell me that if I ever offered Everyday God again, she wanted to come. Forgetting Daddy for the moment, I responded to her words, telling her I didn’t know what the future held with respect to this contemplative spiritual formation class I was mid-wifing. But that I would definitely keep her in mind if I offered the class a second time. I don’t think she thought any further of her words. Her job was done; the weight was off of her and onto me. And I was surely left to wrestle with the meaning of this unexpected source of desire. Was this a nudge from God, a whisper to remind me not to become too comfortable in my life of leisure?
If so, it worked. Because this morning, and even a little last night, while pouring through Evelyn’s Underhill’s book Mysticism, I began to think about future lessons. And even about offering the first seven sessions of Everyday God a second time around. And the thought of both is so…comforting, so moving, so beautiful and lovely. Though none of these words are an exact fit of ‘it.’
But I am drawn toward these in the same way my friend is. And not because I should do them. I do too many things out of ‘should’. But this I have done and would do out of the deepest of desires. I want to. And so, it’s time to go dash off a quick and breathless email to interrupt my friend Linda’s day, while the tornado is breathing down my neck, creating this burning awareness of the beauty of life within me. And before the fear of it keeps me from birthing my own version of this whispery nudge.