I've started a habit of taking a little notebook to church with me on Sundays. Sometimes I draw pictures, write notes to my kids, make lists. Lately I've been jotting down things that jump out at me during worship -- words or phrases that I find meaningful. And then I add little pictures. This past Sunday I wrote the following, four full pages, written rapid fire. I'm thinking I carried some baggage with me to church Sunday. What do you think?
I can't seem to be at peace, even in my own home. If we can't even be peaceful, at peace, with those we live in community with, those we love, how can we (I) expect peace in our larger communities? In our cities? Our country? Our world? I hold on tightly to the wish for peace in the world, but really, do my daily actions and words reflect that hope, that wish? They do not. Why do dishes affect my ability to be peaceful, be a peacemaker, show love to those I love more than anything else? Dishes. Today anyway, it's dishes. And maybe rinsing out the bath tub . . . and . . . and . . . Unfortunately, on any given day, the list could go on and on. I don't love them any less, in the big picture, but in the moment maybe I like them less. My reactions and interactions do not show peace or love. Then my anger turns inward. What have I done wrong? I haven't been the person I should have been, so I taught them incorrectly. I did them a huge disservice. Why wasn't I a better wife and mother? Maybe it's too late now. At least that's what my thoughts are at that moment. Then it passes. My mind gets busy with something. I forget my feelings of anger. Until next time I walk into the kitchen and find the sink full of dishes that have been there for days. And then the cycle starts all over again. I've always had an ability to forgive quickly. As a child, I remember fighting with my neighborhood friends. We would go our seperate ways, and in 15 minutes or so, I was ready to play together again. They could, and sometimes did, stay mad at me for days. If nothing else, my kids inherited that ability from me.
Dishes keep me from being a peacemaker.
Get up, do not be afraid. (these words were part of the liturgical dance and words of reassurance)
He said, "get more sleep!" Well. I'm sure he was/is right. I guess in a way that could be a magic pill. Or something like that.
My girls and I got creative a week or so ago, making altered books. That's where you get old books no one wants and do art on and in them. You alter them. You can keep some of the words, rip pages out and restick them in, whatever. I'm teaching a class this summer on altered books, so I wanted to practice.
