Early every Saturday morning I used to have the distinct pleasure of a twenty-five minute walk through well-groomed quiet neighbourhoods to my part-time job at a grocery store. Did it for several years. I passed my son’s old high school and a church and a separate school property and playground, several beautiful Rose-of-Sharon bushes, some flowering lilies, a young tradesman filling his pick-up with tools for some Saturday over-time,and the occasional smiling retiree or dog-walker. Birds were always part of the experience, and their singing, particularly the cardinals, finches, robins and mourning doves.A passer-by would usually give me the courteous knowing nod, as if to say, “Haven’t we found the best part of the day?” Two back-yard dogs, Schnauzers, would acknowledge me, the one cranky and barking, his partner apologetic. A couple of times surprisingly, in some green corner, I saw the sleeping homeless or hung-over.You wouldn’t find me “plugged in” with either cell-phone or music to my ears. This short excursion was “private property”. I appreciated the quiet and the chance to think or pray. Frequently a strain of thought would come out of left-field, apparently non sequitur, but having that sort of character which suggests God origin.
Messages, writings and much comfort and correction have come in this fashion. I enjoy His company. In these special short times I considered myself to be most definitely “connected”. Are we as a society losing the quiet, the time and the inclination to meditate? To smell the roses? Pity.