July 20th, 2012

This morning I spent about an hour in the kitchen baking cookies for class today. When I finished and gone back to my room, the first thing I noticed was the scent of rain.

I had left my windows open. A breeze was stirring my curtains gently and brought in the fragrance of green, of cleansing, and quenching. I can hear the sound of tiny rivulets gushing through the eves and the patter of millions of drops against leaves, sidewalks and roofs. I can’t see the horizon out my window; the clouds have descended. All is being made new again.

I’m thankful for taking this course now, a year after graduating. Some of the material I’ve learned before but have forgotten. But it’s really more about the season I’m in. I can take. I can absorb and receive whereas before I was just tired of all the information and processing. There’s only so much deconstruction and reconstruction one can take in three years…. I had enough of it by the end.

Posturing makes all the difference. There have been times when I couldn’t sit at Jesus’ table and eat of his flesh and blood. I couldn’t see his good and loving ways. All I felt was pain, suffering, and loss. I couldn’t see his invitation to enjoy him as my God and as my friend.

And just like that.. the rain is gone. I can sense the sky brightening and with it the colours of the earth. I’m learning to savour. To take a long-loving look at the world and to, perchance, catch a glimpse through the eyes of Christ. What will I see? What will I hear?


Edit: The above was written as part of my journal for a class I was auditing (Contemplative Listening). It concluded last Friday, July 20th.

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