It’s been awhile since I’ve written.  Sorry. I promised weeks ago that I’d put up a post about Naomi, rather than Ruth. I promise it’s coming by the end of the weekend.  It just took a lot of time, reading, and reflection to put together. Not to mention the fact that it’s a delicate subject (since it’s about my mom, sort of, and widowhood in general).  I have devoted a lot of non-existent spare time to the little essay, and I hope you enjoy it and feel thoughts provoked by it when it comes.  Soon.

On the topic of “soon” and “when” and well, “time,” I’d like to make a few observations.  Maybe you’ll find these fit your experiences.

  1. When I’m focusing on what to do next, making a schedule for my day, and trying to stick to it, tons of things seem to get in the way and I almost never get my whole list done.  I’m beginning to think that this is God’s way of telling me to get over my own plans and to learn that life is full of constant interruptions.  A book I’m reading by ex-priest Henri Nouwen reinforces this thought, since Nouwen recalls the words of a fellow priest who once told him that he suffered constant interruption in his clerical duties, only to discover that God’s purpose was actually in the interruptions, not the tasks set before him.   I can’t remember the page number, or the actual quote, but that little gem is from Nouwen’s Turn My Mourning into Dancing: Finding Hope in Hard Times.  Lovely book (the MLA on my copy—Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2001).
  2.  God, the master of manipulation, appears to be capable of walling off sections of time for himself in my life, whether I ask him to or not.   My current hours at work mean that I come home late at night, often after covering for another server, and that I have less and less time to spend with the larger world that runs on a diurnal schedule.  I’ve missed more phone calls than I can name, but I never feel good about returning them at 11:30 p.m. .  As a result, I’m not dating much or arranging to have many dates. I am, however, reconnecting with my girl friends, who are all now working, by coincidence, in the food industry, and are keeping similar hours to mine.  I’m also spending a lot of time alone at night, thinking. Apparently, God wants me to spend some time in silence and solitude.  That’s not a bad thing.  Nouwen writes that, spiritually speaking, the combination of silence and solitude are the “twin agents of good,” since they are where God’s love “is realized” (76). This makes sense because silence and solitude are where we can understand God’s love for us as individuals, and rely on it as our source of strength and sense of self, rather than on the corrupted forms of it offered in our culture.  I think God is saving me from my own neediness by making himself my sole (soul) companion. Aside from the cats, of course.
  3. The former two observations lead me to think that God, who exists outside of time by most theological theories, sees time differently than we, who are inside of it, do. If, to God, time is more than merely chronos, or the passage of intervals marked by the clock and by scheduling, then is it supposed to be seen, as the New Testament apostles called it, as kairos, or moments of opportunity?  I’d like to hope so, because I’m not doing so well with the whole scheduling thing.

As always, leave a response concerning your theories. I love to hear from you.

Cats are good nighttime companions until they catch colds and get clingy.  Poor little Delilah has the sniffles.

Cats are good nighttime companions until they catch colds and get clingy. Poor little Delilah has the sniffles.