Life Worth Living
As I sit here in the dark thinking about my day I can’t help but notice how futile it all seems to be. I wake up to change diapers only to change them again later. I clean the house only for it to be made messy. I infuse love, joy, and wisdom into my children and wife only to be ignored. Then again I also infuse frustration, only to be taken for granted. I workout and then I take a break only to start back to where I was at the beginning, 250 lbs. I brush my teeth only to see them persist in changing color. I work hard to be a better man but accomplish nothing. What does it all mean, to live?
I woke up just the other day, and shortly after I sent my kids to school, I found myself in the kitchen listening to the coffee grounds grinding away and the tea kettle screaming. Soon I was pressing my fresh hot coffee into my new Starbucks mug and taking in the delightful sight and smell of fresh coffee in the morning, and the sweet silence. I sat down with my hot bowl of oatmeal and fresh coffee in front of the living room window, simply taking in the morning.
One hour later I was walking up the local hill, and pushing my son David in his stroller. We made it to the summit and gazed out across the expanse that is Ellensburg. The sky was dawned with beautiful mist-born cloudscape. I could feel my heart pounding against my ears as my chest labored to take in more air. Why can’t I be so in awe like this all the time?
A monk named Brother Lawrence once made similar observations, and came to the conclusion that “one must practice the presence of God.” Brother Lawrence began keeping this practice in everything he did from washing dishes, collecting the groceries, and interacting with others such as children. Is it really all that difficult to simply recognize God’s presence while doing our day to day?
Perhaps such practice can help give us meaning in our day to day life because it is probable that when we practice God’s presence we practice other’s presence. While I was walking the other day, and reached the summit of the local hill, I wasn’t just thinking about myself. My mind was drawn to the divine, but it was also drawn to my son David, who was with me and all of the people that were down in the valley. Perhaps such practice can give us meaning in our day to day life, because it is probable that when we practice God’s presence, we practice other’s presence.