It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
I recently wrote a short poem. It just so happened that I did it during my lunch break, of all times. Lunch breaks typically aren't my most inspiring moments. To be honest with you, I've had very few inspired moments as of late. And I'm beginning to see the reason why. Let me begin by saying that my little poem should never have been birthed in the first place. The reason? I've somehow become intolerant to mindful stillness.
The terror. I know.
The first thing I did when I climbed into my car was check my phone for messages. I had none, so I thought, "Facebook". Unfortunately, my brother had used the last of the data, so that was a no-go, as was Instagram and Snapchat. I considered what to try next, and pulled up my audio book of "A Tale of Two Cities".
It had expired. My options had run out. But wait . . . I could call my mom! Now, granted, calling one's mom is never a bad idea, but my point is that I was still using technology to try to fill empty time. Empty time that I so often fill with mindless distractions, when wiser ones would treat it as a precious gift to be handled with more intention, more care.
Regardless of my pathetic efforts to fill time, however, I stumbled across the thought of a poem. Writing a poem, like an old friend, can unfold old feelings of wonder and spark refreshment to the soul. And a poem comes easy. All you need is a memory, a picture, a feeling, or idea to begin. My poem was taken from the sky:
Prairie dress blue skies
And fields of daffodils
Paint themselves in my mind.
Now that's a good time.
Stillness and breeze's beautiful lullaby
Singing over me.
My head laying, quiet, on lovely ground.
The grass smells sweet.
Even though it's small, this poem represents a part of me that's bigger and more important to preserve than almost any other. Innocence, freedom, delight, and simple joy. Facebook doesn't resurrect or effect those things. It never will. I wish I could make my heart's decree to be ever free and alive and wanting the best of what God offers. But the truth is I'm not perfect. But creating a couple new technology boundaries and pushing back some things to create a pocket of space designated for stillness, and creativity, is a first step I'm willing to take. And I'm glad to do it. I'ts a beautiful day in the neighborhood and I don't want it to slip through my fingers.
The terror. I know.
The first thing I did when I climbed into my car was check my phone for messages. I had none, so I thought, "Facebook". Unfortunately, my brother had used the last of the data, so that was a no-go, as was Instagram and Snapchat. I considered what to try next, and pulled up my audio book of "A Tale of Two Cities".
It had expired. My options had run out. But wait . . . I could call my mom! Now, granted, calling one's mom is never a bad idea, but my point is that I was still using technology to try to fill empty time. Empty time that I so often fill with mindless distractions, when wiser ones would treat it as a precious gift to be handled with more intention, more care.
Regardless of my pathetic efforts to fill time, however, I stumbled across the thought of a poem. Writing a poem, like an old friend, can unfold old feelings of wonder and spark refreshment to the soul. And a poem comes easy. All you need is a memory, a picture, a feeling, or idea to begin. My poem was taken from the sky:
Prairie dress blue skies
And fields of daffodils
Paint themselves in my mind.
Now that's a good time.
Stillness and breeze's beautiful lullaby
Singing over me.
My head laying, quiet, on lovely ground.
The grass smells sweet.
Even though it's small, this poem represents a part of me that's bigger and more important to preserve than almost any other. Innocence, freedom, delight, and simple joy. Facebook doesn't resurrect or effect those things. It never will. I wish I could make my heart's decree to be ever free and alive and wanting the best of what God offers. But the truth is I'm not perfect. But creating a couple new technology boundaries and pushing back some things to create a pocket of space designated for stillness, and creativity, is a first step I'm willing to take. And I'm glad to do it. I'ts a beautiful day in the neighborhood and I don't want it to slip through my fingers.
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