Mindfulness

A year after an injury, I walked today.

It was really less about fitness and more about exercise…in mindfulness.

Saturday morning yoga: in a stretch while quietly praying, I wrote "MINDFUL" at the top of my mat.

While leaving the home of a friend after a long luxurious conversation, I thought about paying attention the whole way home (as opposed to my typical, "look- a cow, I'm hungry, what cute shoes, I think I can make the light, wonder what the kids are doing, is it rain?) 

I did scribble "I enjoy speed. I value mindfulness" on a scrap of paper while at a stoplight so I could tweet it when I got home.

Early evening, Saturday: two friends pop over. I'd been in bed trying to outrun this sinus thing that's been dogging the week. I hear my name through the open window and face the decision to be present or crawl deeper into the coverlet. If people are my priority, I need to be mindful and get up.

It goes on like this the next day as I read quietly on my patio…SCRATCH THAT. As I bounce between reading, checking online, improving my Pandora station, scratching the cat, thinking about swimsuit buying, hopping over a project, etc.

That's my normal; anything but mindful.

So this weekend's whisper of becoming mindful has been a challenge I cannot meet….on my own.

Fortunately, I needed to return a book to a friend so I dove into it, Mudhouse Sabbath by Lauren F. Winner. She speaks to this mindfulness from her life growing up as a practicing Jewish girl and into her transition to a New Testament faith. It is a worthy read.  She is gracious and the book is brief. It's like a Godiva chocolate: delicious, well-crafted, rich, and a gift that returns welcomed in memory.

We, Christians, used to be known for mindful hospitality and mindful celebration, grieving and living; not for church squabbles about carpets, the rating of sin, the value of short-term missions v. long-term missions, or the value of a person who's sin doesn't sit well with us…as we marinate in our own sin.

The Body of Christ was once known for it's intentional living, community, sacrifice over "shock & awe", and for going to the broken rather than waiting for the wounded to show up.  

Today, there are pockets of people who live in remembrance of this intentional gentle and courageous life. I'm not yet one of them.

My walk today was one of repentance: of desiring less "shock & awe"  and more community; of forgoing the shiny thing for the enduring; and of no longer being wrapped up in my own stuff that I step over (or square into) the needs of others. I'm sorry. Even this blog is "Allie this and that."  You deserve better.

Today's walk began with a commitment to slowly pray a liturgical prayer; "Our Father…" It took two miles of hills to get through it.  In that time, I sensed that God is present. Had the chance to quietly greet a few other walkers, smelled the rich magnolia and unseen jasmine; listened to roosters crow and a dog trying to sound like a rooster; saw tiger lilies against a fence, a trampoline ringed by shoes, and a stream bubbling from a hidden source.

Mindful. 

Delicious.

I need your help.  If  you have any suggestions on how to strengthen my mindful muscle, I'd love to hear them.

Thank you for journeying with me.