I was trying to sit quietly, to be aware of the Holy Presence within and without. The beeswax candle was burning. Scripture was waiting to be savored. And corn muffins were baking in the oven.
I couldn’t be still. Too many things to do pushed into my brain along with a bit of panic that I could do them in time to meet deadlines…some very public deadlines. Breathe in. Breathe out. Be still. I tried. I failed.
I wondered if I still believed in the Holy Presence that is the original milieu. The place where I live and breath and have my being. “Yes,” my mind gave the conditioned response. “Then why can’t I rest in the mystical embrace?” it wondered. Too busy to linger long on any one thing, it darted off to books, phone calls, appointments, writing, and work at Macy’s.
Mercifully, the oven’s buzzer announced the corn muffins were ready, and I had a good reason to get up and focus on something closer at hand. I spread butter on steaming soft insides of the yellow muffin.
I read over the Old Testament reading from Deuteronomy: “Moses said to the people: “Ask now of the days of old, before your time, ever since God created people on the earth; ask from one end of the sky to the other: Did anything so great ever happen before? Was it ever heard of? Did a people ever hear the voice of God speaking from the midst of fire, as you did, and live?”
“Ask of the days of old.” Maybe that’s what I can do. Remember. Not only creation and ancient history, and history of a particular people, but my history. The times I heard God’s voice speaking from the midst of fires in my life.
“Even the people who knew Moses and his story of the burning bush needed reminded,” I thought.
I took a buttery bite of warm breakfast. It tasted like hope.
