Saturday, July 8, 2017

“Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.”

~ May Sarton

Did you even taste that?

We sometimes ask Maya that question after she inhales her dinner. It’s cute, as I carry her dish of food to the spot where she eats, to see her licking her chops in anticipation of the feast about to be set before her. Her little tail is wagging, she’s dancing as she moves, and she’s salivating at the prospect of what is to come.

Then it’s gone.

Dinner done, she noisily slurps water and sometimes gives a small burp to punctuate the end of the meal. A minute–maybe two–and it’s all over.

I woke this morning thinking about how, for too many years, I didn’t experience the fullness this God-given life has to offer because I was either wolfing down what was in front of me or moving so fast I didn’t even notice the wonder right there in front of me.

God, help me to stay present and to appreciate the gifts of the simple and small things. It’s easy to be awed over the power of a thunder and lightning storm but miss the magic of a small ladybug in my garden or the way the morning light makes Maya’s coat shine as she slumbers on the end of the bed.

When I am intentional about appreciating little things my whole life takes on a flavour that is sweeter. I’m better able to hear the whisper of the still, small voice of the Divine. I become more effective in those areas I’m called to when I silence the cacophony of the world.

I don’t want to get to the end of one more day and ask myself: did you even taste that?

Simple happy. That’s the way for me. Maybe you too?

# # #

I’m praying for the fire situation in our province this morning. British Columbia is under a state of emergency as wildfires continue to flare up and burn out of control.

# # #

A few simple happy things:

Quarts of canned new potatoes on the kitchen counter waiting to be tucked away.

Relatively fresh air through the open door in our bedroom this morning. I fear we may not be able to enjoy this luxury in coming mornings because of the heavy smoke from the forest fires.

The crazy chipmunk that has been frequenting the neighbourhood–and our garage.

A hummingbird at the feeder.

Bare feet.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
1 comment
  1. I am reading May Sarton – again – now her journal written in her eighties. I’m not in that decade yet, but I hear her calm voice, like yours, heeding the call to slow down and observe.

    Sorry to here about the wildfires in BC. I wonder how they will affect our trip to your province in about 3 weeks.

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