A Bench Beside the Corn Fields

One week ago I was complaining about carrying boxes and eating in a parking lot.  I'm embarrassed about it now.  So tonight I carried the last two boxes to my office and was smart enough to use the elevator this time.

You know, sometimes I think I make things harder just so I can feel sorry for myself.  This is probably more honest than anything I could say.  I've thought this before, but I've never admitted it to anyone.

After unloading the boxes, I picked up a couple things I needed from the store (more vinegar, some small rocks to put on top of my cactus plants--not ON them, like, AROUND them--and a giant parlor palm tree they had marked half off.)  I need to stop listening to plants in grocery stores.  My sister has the same problem.  She rescued 5 or 6 orchids from a grocery store once.  They are blooming in her kitchen window now, happy.  I suppose it's a good thing after all.

Nora and I treated all the houseplants for mealy bugs today.  I found a great recipe in the gardening book that was in that gift basket someone left at the door--dish soap, oil, water.  Have you ever seen a mealy bug before?  They're kind of beautiful and gross at the same time--like miniature albino trilobites.  They will seriously damage your plants though.  Anyway...

I still had over an hour to kill before picking Nora up and wasn't really hungry, so I decided to take a walk around Plum Creek.  I rarely walk anymore.  This is a problem, not so much for my health as it is for my need to move and think at the same time.

You know, I think I'm starting to realize that I need to try to do one "completely worthless" activity a day.  I'm not talking about eating bowls of cheese while watching cooking videos on youtube.  (Not that I have ever used this as a way to forget my troubles...but, uh...)  I guess I'm talking about how I need to remember what good there is in beautiful things again.  After survival comes the still, radiating moment of seeing God's strong presence in all that He made, all that is good.  I've been "hands on the wheel, eyes on the road" for awhile now, and this "drive until you get somewhere better" way of living, well, I don't need to tell you.  You also need beauty in your life.  You've driven that other car before, too.

God made beauty to show us His love.  Pastor told me this:  wonder is a form of thanksgiving.

I sat on a bench halfway through the walk, corn high on each side, sound of insects, trees and weeds everywhere, sky, big sky and clouds, space and space and space and waited until I was past the urge to move, past my need to do something, and just listened.

What I heard:

cool breeze skin cicada green world multi-shaped leaves taking me

Closed my eyes for a long time so I could see it better forever.