Waiting Patiently
Having a busy September
and October, I take a huge breath to focus on my writing again. The “Hopefully
Devoted” group is a great blessing and full of encouragement. We’ve now reached
the stage where we are placing newly interested people on a waiting list, while
the group settles having had five new members in a short time. The blog is from
my co-leader of that group, Linda Ottewell, who before retirement was an editor
at Kevin Mayhew.
Waiting patiently
Friends tell me that I come
across as calm and patient but today, as I compose this blog, it’s a struggle
to wait patiently for two separate phone calls. The first is an update on my
car’s performance in its MOT exam. (Last year it failed spectacularly and the
bill was eye-watering.) The second is to inform me exactly when a plumber will
arrive to fix what I hope is a relatively small problem with the downstairs
toilet. Hardly headline-grabbing events but the stuff of ordinary, everyday
life.
I
aspire to one of my favourite verses from the Psalms: ‘Be still before the
Lord, and wait patiently for him’ (37:7). I’m trying to spend more time sitting
and waiting quietly, open and responsive, giving God my full attention. There
have been seasons in my Christian life when meditative/contemplative prayer was
more important. Perhaps it’s time for this spiritual discipline to come to the
fore again.
Although
I’m now retired from paid employment, a familiar cliché is proving true,
especially in these 24/7, post-Covid days. I find myself to be as busy now as I
was when still working, with grandmother duties, church commitments, the responsibility
of being a school governor . . . And so it goes on. I suspect that other
cliché, the one involving ‘time’s winged-chariot’, has a lot to do with my
efforts to keep busy and to use each and every day profitably.
Not
long ago I was part of a small group at church, praying for the Sunday service
that was about to begin. An image popped into my head of a hamster on its
wheel, spending its time and energy turning, yet going nowhere. I didn’t even
consider applying the picture to myself at that point. Having looked around the
others I confidently concluded exactly who needed to climb free of that
hamster-wheel whirl of activity and experience Sabbath rest more frequently.
To
employ yet another cliché (with apologies), it isn’t rocket science to realise
that the more I sit quietly, in an attitude of listening prayer, unhurried and
not clock-watching, the more often creative thoughts and ideas can bubble to
the surface. These are my ‘sparky thoughts’ (more properly termed theological
reflections?) when it’s essential to keep pen and paper handy to capture and
explore them further. Picture me scribbling away contentedly, energised and
totally absorbed; precious moments when I let my mind wander freely but fully focused.
For my mind is all too often busy and distracted, flitting from one thing to
another and in danger of missing God’s ‘still small voice of calm’.
O Sabbath rest by Galilee,
O calm of hills above,
where Jesus knelt to share with thee
the silence of eternity,
interpreted by love.
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