While dusting

The sun shone quite nicely this morning.  The windows have been cleaned, inside and out, so nothing  there to cast a guilty shadow.  But, ah, the dust!!!

I set aside my coffee, - mopped the floors and started dusting with my nice new scarlet microfibre duster....  

By the time I had reached the book shelves I had lost quite a bit of my original impetus, and I lingered a while, pulling out a book here and there.

Ah, there is Jan Karon, and her 'Continual Feast'

The invitation was palpable!!!

Warm up the coffee and have a little brouse through Father Tim's words of comfort and celebration.......

The face page declares this to be an edition of the words of others,

gathered together to inspire and comfort

and probably to advance the sale of Ms Karon's books

about the beloved Father Tim.

"I have gathered a posy of other men's flowers, 

and nothing but the thread that binds them is mine own".

                                                        John Bartlett

I leaf through the pages and come upon this....

"Great works are performed not by strength

but by perseverance".  Samuel Johnson

Well, I am sure Samuel Johnson was not interested in my dusting

when he referred to 'great works'........

I flip over and find by an unknown author, but in Father Tim's own hand writing

"Eternal God, I thank you that I am growing old.  It is
a privilege that many have been denied. 
 Spare me the self pity that shrivels the soul...  
and grant me daily some moments living on tiptoe,
 lured by the eternal city...."

This sounds more appealing.....I am grateful and I do look for Tiptoe Moments

but I turn the page, and find here some words on Bereavement....

and they touch my heart.

"It is not that we feel cut off from the bigger spiritual relationship which

survives death, but from the hundred and one lesser links which

bind people together, incidental things which when looked back on seem

of enduring significance but which were taken so much for granted

at the time.  The other person's sense of humor, prejudices, moods,

all that has gone.  For the rest of our lives we shall have to do without

his mannerisms, his shyness, his ways of pronouncing things.

The voice is silent - we had expected it would be - but that the

yawns and bursts of laughter will never be repeated is almost more than we can bear...

These moments were not passing moments at all.  

They had something in them of eternity."

Herbert van Zetter, Moments of Light.

I am lost in memories, the duster forgotten for the moment

but the next page I open releases me from guilty idlesness....

"Work is not always required... there's such a thing as sacred idleness, 

the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected."

George Macdonald

There, not only released, but released into worthiness...

and then I read from Macbeth

"Cans't thou not minister to a mind diseas'd, pluck from the

memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written trouble

of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse 

the bosom of that perilous

 stuff which weights upon the heart".

and I sigh a bit, pick up the duster and look out upon the sunshine

and smile at the quail which have gathered to feed.

After the work is done I practise on my new ukulele!!!!

That is another story......

I know all the chords to Silent Night so

am getting ready for Christmas!

Watch for a progress report!