Reflections on a Busy Week

It's been longer than I would have preferred since I last posted. Not that I'm holding myself to any schedule, but I just like the practice. In the past weeks, I haven't had much time, so much has happened - I traveled home to go to the Relief Sale along with the whole unit, painted my room (a process that lasted a whole week), had cooking duty for two weeks, invited over a lot of company, got behind on my journalling (no surprise there), worked the usual hours, and got just enough sleep to function.

The unit in my backyard after the Relief Sale weekend, it was good to be home

I enjoy the busyness, jumping from one good thing to another, getting all I can from every day. It makes this year in Johnstown feel worthwhile. Yet, I know also that I need the quiet, still times. Though I'm less convinced every week that I am the steadfast introvert that I often profess, calm remains essential. In these past weeks, I was impressed with this thought all the more. I hadn't had the time to be bored enough that my thoughts that had been begun by the many activities throughout the day could stew in my mind long enough to mature, and as I thought about what I would write about if only I had the time, I didn't know; there wasn't anything developed to say.

The unit on a day trip to Ohiopyle state park, a place that made me want to sing

There have been times in my life where I struggle with the exact opposite - I want more to do, less time to sit and reflect. I didn't want to waste my time, after all, even though I'm young I already feel the pressure to live my life as full as possible. 18 is almost half way over! And what have I done with these precious days? Not enough. Even more often, as I journal laboriously day after day (another practice I love but still can get distracted from) I ask myself, "Is it really worth writing all this down, when I could be using this time to do even more of the sort of things I'd want to remember (or sleep...)?" Sometimes there doesn't seem like enough worthwhile things to be writing about.

In my experience, my best thoughts spring up in the wake of an eye opening experience, seeing something new, hearing new truth, making unforeseen connections, then given time will gather structure and snowball into a belief or at least something worth writing about. During Service Adventure, with all the new and the many things going on constantly, I've had many thought-worthy experiences. I like to think them over when I'm at the farm working alone out up on the hill or in the barn with the unpretentious cattle. The topic in my mind shifts and slides in and out of focus. I often mouth the words of my stream of consciousness to myself as I go about my work, then come home and journal it all out.

A common view over the hood of the Steiner tractor looking down the hill towards the garden and goat pasture.

Even this ruminative time though I've recently neglected. In an effort to expand my narrow musical taste, I've been playing Spotify playlists as I work. Peter Paul and Mary, Voces8, Switchfoot, and the Avett Brothers keep me company in the now frosty mornings. However, when I listen my mind passively tracks along with the lyrics even if I'm not paying close attention. My budding thoughts remain packed away.

I need some silence.

Every now and then with the knowledge that I need some stillness, I leave my phone silent (or a lack of sufficient service forces me to). I focus on the mist with the sun streaming through it, the wind buffeting my rosy cheeks, the cacophonous calls of the guineas, and I try to think about things worth thinking about. I've been trying to pray in these still times though I'm easily distracted. I'll sing hymns over and over again with different vowel and dynamic inflections, trying to phrase them with the best interpretation, in the process discerning their deeper meaning. #569 has become a favorite of mine, and when I sing it I pray,

"Day by day, dear Lord of thee three things I pray: to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly, day by day." 

I crescendo through the line before letting the last part fall away. I'm hoping that in my silence God's still, small whisper can ring out, then I'm also hoping that maybe my thoughts that blossom in my mind in moments of activity then stillness could be works of the Holy Spirit, that elusive power I want to be part of the inheritance of.

After this week, I need a still week, one in which I can not only have the time to process the events of the last weeks but also catch up on two weeks of journalling and have moments of unproductivity. Silence is good for rest too. Soon after that, I'll be ready for some action again, things to think about, people to talk to. As with most things, it's a balance between all the good we can engage in and the silence needed to rest and focus on what matters truly.








(Above) Our unit didn't use electric lights after 9 every night this week making for many candlelit evenings talking, baking or washing dishes.