Good Morning,
I pray that the day is finding you well.

Wasting time, I have been thinking about wasting time.

When I think about this, and write this, wasting time seems like such a bad idea; to do nothing particularly productive has many connotations, most of which are not good connotations. When I think of wasting time the first word that comes to mind is “lazy,” a term that is frowned upon by society.

From the time we are little we are taught to be productive; we are groomed to be productive. That a second lost cannot be recovered, that being productive is the proper way we are supposed to live our lives. So we learn to fill every moment of our day “being productive.” This gets translated into going from work to other commitments to coming home and working around the house until it is time for bed. If we have time we turn on the tube but even then it is to watch something that we can discuss with others; a favorite show, or game. We have turned everything into being productive. We fill our minds with schedules and plans, all of which is to not “waste” time.

I was reading, Brennan Manning, Posers, Fakers, & Wannabes (unmasking the real you); A book that comes from a chapter in one of his other works Abba’s Child, a book that is actually directed at teens and young adults.

I was being productive.

In it he makes the following observation. “Intentionally “wasting” time with God enables me to speak and act from strength greater than my own, to forgive instead of nursing the bruise, to give without expecting to give back. All of which, you can see, makes me much more pleasant to be around.” Brennan Manning, Posers, Fakers, & Wannabes (unmasking the real you).(Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2003),66.

Wasting time with God, sitting and doing nothing particularly productive.

Wasting time with God, not worrying about what others may think.

Wasting time with God, not worrying about what we think has to be done at the moment.

Just wasting time with God and relaxing in His arms.

Actually enjoying be in relationship with Him and sitting with Him.

Wasting time with God, talking with Him, telling Him about your day, simply being quiet with God.

Something to think about.
Blessings,

Good Morning,
I pray that the day is finding you well.

I like getting up early in the morning.

The quietness of the world before the sun rises is restful. Just before the sun rises there is an anticipation of the coming day; as if creation is holding its collective breath before it exhales and the stirrings of life begin. The birds awaken first, and then lights come on in the neighboring houses. People start to mill around. A runner jogs passed the house.

I live close to a school and eventually the kids can be seen walking to school, some with their heads down still half asleep, others walking with their friends talking about the coming day or some event that is important to them.

I like the mornings; I talk to God in the mornings. I listen for His words in the mornings before the noise of the day makes it harder to hear Him.

In the quietness of the morning I thank God for His creation and all the blessings He has given.

In the quietness of the morning I pray for the families as they start their day.

In the quietness of the morning I pray for the kids as they walk past the house.

As I write down these thoughts I am reminded of something Henri Nouwen once wrote, he said, “True contemplatives, then are not the ones who withdraw from the world to save their own soul, but the ones who enter into the center of the world and pray to God from there.”

While withdrawing to a retreat is important to replenish the soul. It is important that we come back from those places and live among others, to listen to our surroundings and pray to God about what we hear. It is important that we pay attention to the things we see and pray to God about what we witness.

I am moved by Henri’s words.

When it gets noisy is when I must pray harder.

Something to think about,
Blessings,

Good Morning,
I pray that the day is finding you well.

Here is an old Bread that I thought was worth resurrecting.

Pet Diaries: Dog vs. Cat...
The Dog's Diary:
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
------------------------------------------
The Cat's Diary:
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Jerks!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage. Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now.

I was left with the thought, " Am I the cat or the Dog." Do I celebrate my life and live in the moment, practicing the presence as Brother Lawrence would call it. Or is my life subject to a feeling of complete bondage. When I first read this I thought, "silly dog." As I dwelled on this I began to see the genius of the dog. Personally I will try to practice "the dog."

Something to think about.

Blessings,