Rhythms of rising sun: 8 bowls, 8 scoopings of still-warm granola, 8 spoons, daily beginnings.
Like lapping waves, sheets pulled tight, pillows straightened, last night smoothed out. Quotidian ways.
Like the soundless heron I search the skies for in the early light of every morning, en route to the river to fill his tummy on fish, so I too prepare our meals, lay out our food. Rhythms and routines… worship in motion.
Heart, do not chaffe… do not stomp… do not resent. Housework is our means to entering into the holy. It is here in the kitchen, in the laundry room, washing the toilets, sweeping the floors, that we practice the presence of God.
“We ought not to grow tired of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.”… Brother Lawrence
Like the sun, wind and waves….like all of creation…I am Your servant in motions of worship. Make me perform with love for You, Father.
Lord, let everything that has breath praise You…including…especially me. As the trees of the field clap their hands, let my every movement in this home, be in worship, in love with You.
From the 2006 archives…
