Hardly feels like work

If the noise inside my head took a lesson from my house, would I drown inside the silence? If time inside my heart moved as slowly as the kitchen clock, would bedtime ever come? ​

Beloved:
​
Yesterday, for the first day in forever, I didn’t leave my house all day.  The chickens roamed the yard and woods while I puttered around my kitchen, sewing, laundry rooms.  I put my phone away and kept the TV off.  My dogs barked at the vacuum cleaner, but otherwise the house was quiet as a painting hour upon hour.
 
It’s a work-mostly-at-home-day today.  Lots of email-reading-writing things to do and then some visits in late afternoon.  Socks and pajamas induce much creativity, or so I’m told.  By whom I don’t quite remember.  Someone without an office, I expect, or an extra busy one.  It isn’t lost on me what a privileged life I have for such choices to be mine:  go to work in a low-stress office or at home in a cozy chair.  To describe either choice as work is itself a bit exaggerated, not because it isn’t hard some days – but it’s hardly grueling.  I don’t scrub other people’s floors for $8 an hour.
 
    . . . . . for work to do and the privilege of participating in the gospel in this time and place, we give Thee thanks, O God.  Amen.

~ peace & prayers,


pastor annette