It rained for the first time in a long while in the city last night. Of course, this is the only occasion in 5 months when I haven’t had an umbrella with me at all times. But it wasn’t a dire circumstance, because true to Bay Area precipitation, the “rain” was really more like a heavy drizzle.
It was lovely.
Don’t ask me how, but this gave me the biggest yin to take a bath, just chill out with some awesome music. (At which point, I realized some of my absolute favorite classical music was at a friend’s house.) So, I ran a bath, grabbed my laptop and a good Grieg CD, and settled down to live it up. My plan was simple: listen to the wind blow the rain over the above skylight and get pruny while faceless musicians hammered out Grieg’s piano concerto. . . .
Then the first five minutes was gone, and I made the second unhappy discovery of the evening. I was having trouble doing nothing and not rushing to get one thing done as I advanced to the next. Had my life, my work, my friends—my self—become so constantly kinetic that I couldn’t simply be in the current moment? I, who had always prided myself on being able to sit still and revel in my own imagination, found myself hard-pressed not to run forward to the next thing.
This called for discipline. This called for a Psalm 46:10 exercise. So, I needed to be very still and start listing off some of the ways that God was, well, God. I needed to exalt Him. In my ignorance, in my fears, in my expectations, in my doubts, in all the ways I hoped He’d come through for me and mine. I needed to think about all those ways in which my life had changed in the past year (fun and unfun), and exalt His hand in those, too. . . .
Did I do that?
No. I managed to concentrate on the task for a little while, but just like so many of us self-deprecatingly admit, I failed to fully invest my time with God for more than a brief moment. Then, it dawned on me that the water was getting cold, the concerto was nearly finished, and I still hadn’t washed my hair. I had to laugh—silently, so as not to wake my roomies—and remember that I can indeed do all things through Him who strengthens me. So, even though I’d failed yet again, there’s always the next time I humbly approach God for a little of His quality time.