Holy Scrub-brush, Batman!

When I first started looking into the Friends tradition, the concept of sacramental living made immediate sense to me.  Even as a child, I had a sense of lingering holiness about everyday things like trees and fields and books, although I couldn’t possibly have articulated what I felt.

Making laundry a prayer seems obvious, if I just remind myself.  The folding and sorting can be a quiet, domestic form of worship.  The feel of the cloth is soothing under my hands, and the rhythm of folding becomes a liturgy of socks and shirts.

Balancing the checkbook takes a little more thought, but I can find God there too.  The numbers and logic are satisfying, and it’s not a huge leap to imagine that God must find an exponentially greater satisfaction in the ordered rhythms of molecules and planetary systems.

Even driving can be its own meditation (as long as I pay attention to the road, of course).  I am learning the welcome discipline of shutting off the litany of work-related concerns, and replacing it with a conscious gratitude for the trees and fields and open sky on my way to work.

That said … if anybody figures out how to sacramentally scour burned rice out of the bottom of a pot, come on over to my house.  I will give you a scrub-brush and let you meditate the hell out of my pots and pans.

Little Things, Big God

Does God give us the best parking places?  I’m gonna have to say a reluctant “no” on that one.  It’d be nice to imagine that he stuck his divine finger into the traffic patterns and made all the people at Safeway just not notice that one really great spot, but somehow it doesn’t really mesh with that whole free will thing.

At the same time, there are occasions where you have to sit back and think, “Well, HUH.  Sure wouldn’t have figured that to happen by chance.”

One of my responsibilities at one of my university jobs is getting the student accompanists lined up with the student vocalists for their weekly lessons.  Trying to get a nearly immovable voice studio schedule coordinated with five student schedules, making sure that every vocalist has an accompanist and every student accompanist has enough hours … well, it makes those little Chinese triangle puzzles seem like a BREEZE.  Oh, and none of the piano players who are also taking voice lessons can accompany themselves.  Yes, it crossed my mind.

This evening I finally had to call it quits after a few hours on the computer dealing with scheduling, emails, and a bunch of other stuff that’s really boring to write about.  Nobody was available in the late afternoon, and those are the times when I either can’t be there at ALL because of another commitment, or when I want desperately to be home with my children on the two days a week I always have them.  Yes, I could cover those lessons, but oh my goodness I didn’t want to have to stay an hour late two days a week while my children let themselves into the house and waited for Mama to come home!

And then at 11:30 p.m. I got the last student schedule in my email inbox.  She only wants three students.  She’s available every afternoon until 4:00.  Problem completely solved, in less than two minutes.

God?  Maybe not.  But I’m going to thank Him anyway, just in case.