The Humming-bird Watch
I’ve decided I need a couple of simple things in my life that will make things so much better. Forever. I’m going to describe them here, because I suspect, Dear Reader, that you have similar needs. The first one requires an inventor. So all you gadgety, geeky people listen up . We need a navigation device that says, “well-done.”
My husband first pointed this out. How much better the long drive would be if Siri or her sisters would say, “Good job! You made that left turn across traffic exactly like I told you, even though I barely gave you six seconds to switch lanes.”
The GPS lady is so bossy. And, sometimes quite wrong. That was a lovely neighborhood, Siri, but did you notice the other road went straight to our destination without the tour of cul-de-sacs? But, I digress. I’m just saying the GPS never gives us credit when we get it right. I’d like a little electronic applause, please. And, while you’re at it, could we switch to a Sam Elliot voice?
The other thing I need is an arrow like the one on maps at amusement parks. It would float around above my head all day and periodically poke me with the reminder that “You Are Here!” I find I’m having trouble remaining present. I’m three days ahead making schedules. Or two years ahead planning a book tour for the manuscript I haven’t sold yet. Sometimes I’m only a few hours ahead, but I’m fretting so much about whatever is coming that I can’t pay attention to the moment I’m living. This, Dear Reader, creates stress.
I need a reminder to breathe.
This isn’t something my inventor friends can create, of course. I’m going to need to find it inside myself. In that place where I have stored up beautiful verses about not worrying about tomorrow. About resting in a Father whose thoughts are higher than mine. And the arrow I need is simply the nudge of the Holy Spirit. He is faithful to remind me if I’ll listen.
This morning, I backed out of the garage in a hurry, twelve things on my mind. Suddenly a humming-bird lit on our feeder beside the roses. And I stopped. I pulled forward, rolled down the window, and watched the little fellow drink. I remained there, present, just long enough to feel the peace of the moment. And I came to work in a much better frame of mind. It is Monday, and the pressure could be intense. But so far, I’ve managed to just be here today. Present on this Monday morning in August for whatever the Holy Spirit has at hand.
(I’m probably gonna need that arrow by noon.)