Mindfulness. Not. Thursday's Reflection

Two stories.
1. Sunday morning, Valentine's Day, I head to the lower level to take a shower. I would have preferred to sleep in late this morning, but I am one of the presenters at adult forum between services at church, and we will go to the early service first. I have prepared my brief talk, a quick three minute one, and am not nervous, but nonetheless that is on my mind. I walk through the kitchen and down the stairs. I take my shower and dress and walking through the kitchen again, I return to the first floor bathroom where I put on my make-up. 

Great--I have time for a bowl of cereal before we need to leave for church. It is then, only then, I notice something new in the kitchen, the teeny, tiny kitchen I have walked through twice already this morning. On the window sill over the sink are four small red pots filled with fluffy, fresh herbs. A Valentine's Day present from my forever Valentine. How could I have missed them?

2. Monday afternoon I get in the car to drive to a friend's apartment. We will meet to plan a talk on mindfulness we have been asked to give at church. Yes, mindfulness. As I drive the familiar Mississippi River Boulevard, cross the river on the Ford Parkway Bridge into Minneapolis and then turn towards Minnehaha Falls Park and the route I take when I drive to my father's apartment in Edina, I think about how much I love that drive. And about the intentional decision I made quite sometime ago to choose that route, although longer, rather than taking the freeway. The changing river, little traffic, beautiful old homes, trees and green space now covered in winter white. A mindful decision, until I realize my destination this afternoon is not my father's apartment, but Ruth's apartment. I needed to take a left in the park, instead of a right. 

I laugh at myself and resolve once again to "begin again," as I think St Benedict said. I wasn't mindful. I wasn't present to the present moment, but I have yet another chance to begin again and to practice awareness. To wake up and be mindful. 

Mindfulness is not mysterious or magical nor is it something one accomplishes and can check off one's life or bucket list. Every moment is another chance to practice.

In a way when we stir ourselves awake from a mindless moment, we are offered a gift. Now every time I walk into our kitchen, I smile at the cheery green herbs in their red pots and think about the considerate. loving nature of my Valentine. And the next time I drive the familiar route I suspect I will pay more attention to where I am going and what I am seeing. A good thing. 

An Invitation
What has jolted you into a mindful moment recently? When have you realized you weren't mindful? I would love to know. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Knowing When to Change

At the beginning of the Lenten season, our senior pastor said, "Let Lent change you." I have been sitting with that simple sentence all these past weeks, and now that we Christians are in the Easter season, I wonder what change  may have occurred within myself. Has there, in fact, been any change? 

What about you? Did Lent change you or now that it is April, and we are supposedly in the season of spring, was there some way you let March change you or winter change you? 

One of my life mottos is "If you do what you've always done, you get what you've always gotten." This is one of those simple and obvious statements, but I like it because it doesn't propose change for change's sake. Sometimes doing what you've always done results in ongoing good outcomes and positive wellbeing. Maybe it is following a certain recipe, knowing the soup that is served for dinner will always be delicious. Or maybe it is taking a walk every morning, knowing you will feel energized by the time you walk back in through your front door. Or is there a spiritual practice that nurtures you on a regular basis?

But sometimes we get stuck repeating and repeating a pattern, a habit, an action even though we know the results are not good for us or perhaps don't move us forward in our life or don't bring about a change, even though we say we want change. How often do you have a problem with your computer or your phone and you keep trying the same steps, hoping there will be a connection? What makes us think that doing something again will work when it didn't the first time or the fifth time? 

Recently I read the following statements. Unfortunately, I don't know where I read them, so I can't give proper credit.

           May I see what I do.

           May I do it differently.

           May I make this a way of life.

I love the simplicity of these statements, too, but I would amend them just a bit. 

           May I see what I do.

           May I know when I need to do it differently.

           May I do it differently.

           May I make this a way of life. 

I don't know if I am entering this season changed or not. I don't see any huge changes. I have certainly not lost any weight recently nor  have I made any big adjustments in my routines or habits. We have come through lots of big changes in the last year plus, and I am grateful for the one day follows another day that we seem to be in now. I know, however, change can also refer to the more subtle changes in one's attitude, one's outlook, and one's ability to listen to that inner voice. I know change can mean clearing the space to be more open to the movement of God in one's life. 

I hope Lent has made me more open. 

I hope I am more aware of what leads me closer to God and what closes me off from God.

I hope I can make that a way of life.

An Invitation

Have the last few weeks or months changed you? If so, in what way? How aware are you of what leads you closer to the person you were created to be and to the life you want to live? I would love to know.