...stocking shelves, buffing floors...

This morning, an old friend - whom I know to be devoted to the habit of daily prayer, with others - came through the store early in the morning as I rumbled by with the propane-powered floor buffer. Intent on continuing the pattern I had already created on the floor (the way one might when mowing a lawn), I almost didn't stop. But, as I passed him I thought about Brother Lawrence, or Brother Andrew; I wasn't sure, who wrote about practicing the presence of God in everyday life. I remembered stories of Brother Lawrence (it turned out) experiencing God's presence while scrubbing pots and pans in the kitchen.

So, I paused - right hand holding the handle down lest the buffer shut down; left hand to his shoulder as he rose from bending into the yogurt cooler - and said, "A few days a week, while stocking shelves or scrubbing floors, I think about Brother Andrew in the kitchen." He looked puzzled. I said, "Maybe it was Brother Lawrence." He said, "You mean practicing the presence of God?" "Yes," I nodded. He smiled and said, "Bless your heart." I think he really meant it; as opposed to a traditionally Southern expression of sympathy for the foolish.

In his book, The Practice of the Presence of God: The Best Rule of Holy Life, Brother Lawrence (Nicholas Herman, c. 1605-1691), wrote:

That he had always been governed by love, without selfish views; and that having resolved to make the love of GOD the end of all his actions, he had found reasons to be well satisfied with his method. That he was pleased when he could take up a straw from the ground for the love of GOD, seeking Him only, and nothing else, not even His gifts.

That in order to form a habit of conversing with GOD continually, and referring all we do to Him; we must at first apply to Him with some diligence: but that after a little care we should find His love inwardly excite us to it without any difficulty.*

I know those moments; moments when I move two rows of two cans to the front of the shelf, rotating the labels forward for symmetry, beauty, and easy reading, for the love of God, seeking God only, and nothing else. They are more rare than I would hope, but I like those moments very much.

*http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/13871/pg13871.txt

...some days...

Some days are just longer.

...not knowing...

So many things I don't know or understand. I'm getting better about being okay with that. I love learning actually, but for most of my life I've struggled with an inner voice telling me I'm supposed to already know things I haven't learned yet. I've heard that's typical for ACOA's, but it's still haunted me.

At 54, I'm better about this particular craziness. I still struggle with the "why did that happen?" and "what if?" games. Mostly, I experience this during moments of solitude when painful memories pop into my mind (i.e. hurtful things that others have done that made no sense to me at the time, hurt a lot, and still don't make sense to me).

I'm beginning to see a grace in "not knowing" but I can't articulate it yet.