A Little About Dog Piles

I don't like picking up dog poop. Except for the times when I wander outside because I need to be outside, and I just happen to notice, and casually clean the yard. Those times I feel happy and satisfied. But the times that I'm scouring the yard to "get ready" for something, not so much. All I can see are piles and piles, evidence that Roscoe has been snacking in the compost bin again. Then, I don't enjoy myself any, even with a nice clean yard, because I'm too busy to notice the clean; it's just one more thing to be checked off my list. Maybe that was the problem with Martha, in the Bible, she was out of rhythm with work and rest, and was locked in a cycle of the next thing to be accomplished, fixed, or finished. That's me a lot of days, and it's exhausting.

The Pile Maker

This Lenten season, I haven't given up anything per se, because to be honest, sacrifice and self denial of things can be difficult, but not necessarily life changing for me. I come from a family where difficult things were woven into the fabric of our lives, and I can do denial and self discipline. The harder thing for me is to rest, and to listen. To listen, instead of doing. To sit in quiet and contemplation when it leaves my hands empty and my chores undone. I'm finding when I lift my eyes up long enough to see the big picture, instead of losing myself in the tiny details, I notice more. I feel more alive, connected and peaceful. Time slows, and I'm not exhausted anymore.