It is late at night. The kids are all in bed at last. My tired body notifies me of the strain of the day that demanded of me more than I could do. The feeling of being behind is almost stifling to me now. I vegetate on the couch, staring at a blank TV.
But this picture is where I want to be–sitting on the wooden benches in my outdoor sanctuary up the street where daffodils wave in the late afternoon sunlight, beckoning me to join them in worshiping the Son.
Daffodils make good prayer partners.
They don’t say a word but simply worship their Creator with beauty and elegance–cheerful faces absorbing the rays. They bloom vibrantly for a short while and then are gone.
Sort of like us here on Earth.
How could I know that this week would be so full of things I MUST do? The celebration of Purim (but I love teaching Bible classes at the local library on how the Jewish holidays are still symbolically important for Christians!) just happened to coincide this year with our regular second Thursday 4-H meeting (but I’m the volunteer leader who loves 4-H and my family volunteered for the March program because we Irish dance and love Ireland!) which just happened to be sandwiched in between two days of my son’s high school baseball games (but I adore baseball and am the team’s scorekeeper and blogger for the website!) which just happened to be scheduled right when our 104-year-old local historian/genealogist would pass away (but who knew that would happen at this time?) which would mean I would be asked to write the feature story for the local newspaper in his memory (but he was my mentor and friend and I am honored to write the story about him because I am following in his footsteps and will miss him!) on top of my duties of running a nonprofit Christian ministry in town (but I live for this and love to study God’s Word for our church service in a few days!) which reminds me that I have to finish the paperwork for our 501(c)3 status (but I HAVE to do that soon so that we can move into our building which won’t be given to us until we are certified!) and I also have to go to the Social Security office and wait hours to have my name changed (but our church needs a bank account and they won’t open the account until we have an EIN which we can’t get until my name matches my Social Security number!) which reminds me that I didn’t order my son’s bat online tonight (but the boy needs a bat of his own so he can quit borrowing other boys’ bats!) which jogs my memory to fill out the paperwork for Little League for all three kids (but we breathe baseball and are ready to play!) and all of this is stressing me out to the point that I have already forgotten the many other things on my LONG to-do list and the many people whose emails and Facebook messages I haven’t answered because my brain slots are filled up and the gray fog of denial has settled in between my ears.
But daffodils make good prayer partners.
And they don’t demand anything of me as I sit on the wooden bench and gaze at the beauty of the burgeoning spring all around me. And the gales of March whip my hair around and somehow help clear out the fog in my brain. And the birds serenade me with trills and songs of serenity that make my to-do list seem rather unimportant at the moment. And the lack of computer, TV or cell phone gives me a freedom to breathe deeply again and take stock of what’s really important.
Yep, that’s where I want to be. But it’s midnight, and I’m here on the couch as the silence of the all-are-abed house is punctuated by the never-ending ticking duel between the living room clock and the kitchen clock.
If Robert Frost were here, I would ask him if this is how he felt when he penned, “But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.”
The lateness of the hour arouses guilt in me; I can hear my hubster saying when he walks in from his third shift job tomorrow morning, “You didn’t stay up past midnight again, did you?” As of right now exactly (the clock just struck 12), I must mournfully answer, “Yes.”
Sometimes staying up late is the only way a busy mother can find quiet time to think, meditate, pray, sort out the promises she still has to keep, and dream. . .dream of the the outdoor sanctuary just up the road where the wooden benches sit peacefully and where nodding daffodils make good prayer partners.