Our son comes home for spring break the end of this week. I am excited to spend time with him, and especially excited that he will attend the Lenten prayer retreat I’m co-leading. Over the years I have tried to teach our children the importance of “useless” time. This is not something easily taught. It must be experienced. The world says, “If you are not making good use of your time, you are useless.” Jesus says: “Come spend some useless time with me.” We still have room if you want to join us as we spend some “useless time” together this Saturday morning.
A carpenter and his apprentice were walking together through a large forest. When they came across a tall, huge, gnarled, old, beautiful tree, the carpenter asked his apprentice: “Do you know why this tree is so tall, so huge, so gnarled, so old and beautiful?” The apprentice looked at his master and said: “No…why?”
“Well,” the carpenter said, because it is useless. If it had been useful it would have been cut long ago and made into tables and chairs, but because it is useless it could grow so tall and so beautiful that you can sit in its shade and relax.” –adapted from Chuang Tzu, The Inner Chapters
How is this tree useful? How is it useless? How does it glorify God in its branches and shade? Can all creation praise God by simply being what it was created to be? Like the old tree in the parable, we don’t pray to be productive or useful, but to be open and grateful. In prayer and meditation, we can live and be; we can bear or not bear fruit, and we can grow old freely, without being preoccupied with our usefulness. Faithfulness in prayer is its own reward, with or without tangible results. ~Henri Nouwen
Today I attended “Art in Bloom”, a celebration of art and flowers. At one of the events, I experienced traditional Japanese arts with a soothing tea ceremony and ikebana demonstration showcasing the beauty of Japanese flower arrangement.
Our daughter just shared a “conductor’s cam” video of her concert last week. Watching it was an unexpected treat and it made my heart sing. It is the view a choir member might have of her conducting, but even closer. She has loved music her entire life, and watching this video demonstrates the love she embraces so fully. I felt as if I was watching a dancer. The serene, confident look on her face; her whole body, her eyes, arms, and fingers all dancing with joy. I’m not trained in dancing, but from the little I do know, it seems as if we must allow the music to lead us. That music, that voice, is different for each of us. We collaborate so our dance together can be full of delight. Nothing more would I ask than for each of us to do what brings us pure joy.
If I had no times of desolation, how could I appreciate times of consolation? How would I grow patience and endurance? How would I build strength? How would I learn to truly live?
Whenever we share music we are telling a story. I just spent the day ringing handbells with eighty other musicians. Jason Krug, our clinician, was an excellent leader for the large group. As an introduction to one of the pieces, he told us the story behind it. The composer, a friend, dedicated it to his wife and wrote the music to convey a message to her that was difficult or impossible for him to express through words. Jason then asked us to ring the music with that story in mind. By knowing the story behind the notes, listening to each other and shaping the music, we were able to express the story more passionately through our bell ringing.
Bread for the Journey 