Take Time to Smell the Roses and Other Life-Giving Advice
“Take time to smell the roses” and other life-giving advice
I spent 80% of my waking hours outdoors this past Sunday. It was a gorgeous day – shining sun, blue skies, light breeze, happy birds. It was lovely. I took my latest book, my headphones, a cup of coffee, and a knitting project out to the balcony of my apartment shortly after getting up, and I spent most of the day there, only coming in for more coffee, a children’s virtual SS lesson, and to gather various snacks and meals. Even the dog joined me, alternating between the sunny corner and the shady spot where his bed was placed. I listened to my book, sipped my coffee, and made a lot of progress on my knitting project.
Mid-afternoon, I put everything down and turned everything off. I sat and enjoyed the breeze and just soaked in the opportunity to be still. While my regular routine has gone out the window in the midst of this pandemic, I have found that my schedule is somehow even busier than usual. Not having a commute from work to home (other than from a chair to my couch) makes it easy to keep working on projects long after my brain needs a break; or to get up in the middle of the evening and say “Oh, I’ll just send that quick email so I don’t forget.” The boundary of “the office” and “the home” has been blurred. It hasn’t been an easy adjustment, I’ll admit.
So today, I soaked up the opportunity to just sit and be. On a “normal” Sunday afternoon, I would probably be in the kitchen prepping meals for the week or taking a nap after Sunday morning activities or binging some TV series while sitting on the couch. But this day, this Sabbath, I just…paused.
As I looked up at the tree beside my apartment, I noticed little green leaves poking out of dark brown bark. Just last week, I recorded a scripture reading in front of this tree and its empty branches. A little higher up, a bird couple flitted back and forth as they built their nest, chirping and arguing over which twig will go where. And while I’d noticed the singing birds all day, it wasn’t until right then that I realized how many different songs were mixing together to make the afternoon’s soundtrack.
Later as I walked my dog around the apartment complex for what felt like the hundredth time over the last few weeks, I noticed azalea bushes are beginning to bloom with bright white and dusty pink flowers. A tree that I thought was just an ordinary tree is now covered with light pink blossoms. And the flower pots hanging from a neighboring apartment’s balcony that was empty and bare last week are now filled with bright spring colors.
All around me are signs of spring and the world waking up to bring forth new life. I realized that in previous years, it has felt like we’ve gone from winter and barrenness to spring and new life- but somehow I missed the hard work that happens in between. The transition from death to life- I’ve missed it. And I’m sure that I would have missed it again this year if things were “normal.” I’m sure I would have missed seeing the trees bloom and the nests being built and the birds singing because I would have just been going about my regular routine and not taken the time to notice the world around me.
So while I wish and pray for this pandemic to end swiftly and healing to come quickly, I am also giving thanks for an opportunity to notice the new-to-me things around me. Things that have always been there, but that I am seeing for the first time.
This week, we are drawing nearer to the cross on a familiar journey. And yet, we have the opportunity to experience Holy Week in a completely different way than we are used to. I pray that you open your eyes so you can see the things that God is trying to draw your attention to. Open your ears to hear things in a new way. And open your hearts so that they may be transformed in ways you and I haven’t yet imagined. May it be so. Amen.
Kristen Koger
Pastor for Children and Families
First Baptist Church of Decatur