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Posts tagged ‘attentive’

Attentive

at·ten·tive –adjective  \ə-ˈten-tiv\

: mindful, observant
: heedful of the comfort of others: solicitious

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As a child, summer reading was my favorite activity. Yes, I was that child. The one checking out the absolute maximum number of library books allowed. The one secretly absorbed under the covers, flashlight in hand, finishing just a few more chapters of The Secret Garden. The child engrossed in reading another Nancy Drew mystery. Curling up in the hammock under the green canopy of magnolias, maples, and mimosa trees, stretching out in the flattened back seat of the lumbering wood-paneled station wagon, or rocking steadily on Granny’s front porch, I paid no attention to summer’s oppressive heat, hairpin curves, or humidity.

Wondrously lost in a book, attentive to characters fully alive via my imagination, summer reading transported me to places and time periods far beyond those sweltering summer afternoons. These were my friends, attending to me as I did to them, stirring my imagination. Decades later, as an elementary school teacher and a mother of three little children, I returned repeatedly to the library, introducing my old book friends (along with discovering new ones) to my children or students.

This summer, noticing the frayed state of my heart and imagination, I remembered those playful days of being fully present to children’s literature. Where, now, was my playfulness of heart? God in His infinite kindness gently nudged me to be child-like. To rest. To heal. To rejuvenate. To enter Proverbs 16:24 afresh, attentive to pleasant words, honeycombs of soul sweetness and bone-healing goodness.

For the rest of the story, please join me over at Charity Singleton Craig’s place.

 

Celebration as a Spiritual Discipline

Albert Einstein said, “You can live as if nothing is a miracle or you can live as if everything is a miracle.” Isn’t that the essence of celebration?

 

If we are attentive, in upbeat places of the heart, we can see the miracle of what God is up to in the moment at hand. We can see the miracle in the mundane, in the messiness, there in the mix of the ups and downs that each day brings. Yet, isn’t it true that when we think of miracles, we expect an accompaniment of fireworks and trumpets?

 

The reality is there are a thousand simple, quiet miracles each day, which we easily miss if we aren’t watching for them: small noticing of big miracles, big noticings of small miracles.  The way my body moves. Dew on the grass. The hilarious, encouraging phone call. The jaunty serenade of laughter. Magenta sunsets.

 

Celebration is a way of enjoying the everyday miracles alongside the over-the-top ones. It’s another way of thinking about the status of the proverbial glass: Is it half full or half empty? If that glass is half full, then that’s cause for celebration. Conversely, we often think that if it’s half empty, that’s legitimate cause to be rather Eeyore-ish.

 

However, in living among the spiritual disciplines, we learn a spiritual discipline requires, hmm, discipline. In his classic book Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster states that the disciplines of the spiritual life invite us to move from the surface of life to its interior depths. Movement involves change, doesn’t it?

 

In one sense, celebration doesn’t seem like it really needs to be a discipline. Celebration appears as if it would always be easy, that is, until it’s not.

 

On difficult days it’s hard to find anything that seems celebration-worthy. A disaster occurs. Sometimes these things are huge like getting fired or the terminally bad news the doctor declares. It’s the investment that goes belly up and the relationship that falls flat on its face.

 

 

At other times, the hardness isn’t one giant avalanche. It’s a continually smattering of snowballs hard as ice that pelt time after time all through the day ‘til you’re battered and bruised. It’s the car battery going dead then the water heater flooding the basement then pounding your thumb instead of the nail. It’s the check that doesn’t come. The neighbor who knocks over our trashcan and leaves the scene of the mess. It’s the daily waiting for what should have been that still isn’t quite yet.

 

It’s on days when hardness seeks to harden our hearts that entering into celebration as a spiritual discipline can form us into fluid and flexible and festive people. With the spade of spiritual disciplines, we dig diligently and determinedly deep, to practice what we don’t feel like practicing. We savor the mystery and wonder of God even among the misfortunes that pummel our days.

 

Celebration happens in two ways. The easy way as we rejoice and delight because of what’s happening: a raise, a sunrise, a flower still blooming after the first snow. The disciplined way of celebration occurs as we rejoice and delight in spite of what’s happening. It’s finding the sparkle in the darkness: a simple pleasure among a plethora of pains.

 

Whichever way we come at it, celebration moves our hearts from the things on the surface to the deeper heart of Jesus.

 

How’s your celebration quota? What miracle, small or large, will you celebrate today?

 

 

Lane M. Arnold

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