The dryer tumbles in the background. The washer drones a deep accompaniment. I sink deeper into my favorite chair, dubbed "the glove" because of its high sides and deep seat. I long to slide down a little further and yield to the desire for sleep. But first, I have a job to do.
A frosty glass of my something sweet awaits my devoted attention. And contrary to my former frantic pace of life, I plan to enjoy it slowly, down to the last icy drop.
See, I've been thinking about these small tasks lately. I realize that the littler and more repetitive the activity, the greater its potential to provide lasting pleasure. Gunilla Norris, in her tiny tome "being home", comments that the daily round, for the mindful one, is surprisingly full of silent prayers, meaning, and grace.
This I have found to be true. As I have moved my focus from "hands full" to mindful, activities as simple as eating, drinking, and washing (dishes, laundry, toddlers, hair) have grown to be cherished friends instead of barriers to the larger goals I've had for my day.
Indeed, the infusion of grace into tasks I once considered so small has turned my personal economy upside down. Whereas my historic self rushed from item to item, I am now learning to savor these simple things for the gifts they've turned out to be. And now, rather than feeling harried and alone as I – through each day, I find myself at home in the most peculiar places. Taking peace with me as surely as I carry my own skin and bones, I realize that an attention to the Grace poured out through savoring The small stuff has provided surprising benefits in the large stuff as well.
Oh sure, I often forget, but I'm learning to let go and sit down a little more often. It's such a blessed relief. I reach again for my beverage, knowing that once it's gone, a new joy awaits me. Sleep? Work? Even the schoolmaster, Pain? Somehow, I am content to accept whatever unfurls, trusting the great Giver to provide moments I'll be grateful to savor .
