February 12, 2016
It’s the busiest days that take the most out of me. That seems like a rather obvious thing to say. The full days fly by, and at the end of them I am the most empty, the most tired and usually the most grumpy.
It’s days like this that I try to take extra breaths when I can. The projects have their demands and I can be quite task-oriented with enough coffee.
Yet I must remind myself to push the chair back from the desk and whisper this prayer.
“Presence… not projects.” For while I am not ordained, I am certainly a minister of sorts. I work with people that do not ever deserve to be the subject of my frustration. I meet with others that rightfully expect my best and that from my heart along with my head. I sit down to write words that I hope would bring life. Often, I am plagued by thoughts that do much less than that.
“Presence… not projects.” It becomes my mantra. It becomes self-instruction. It becomes a hope. It becomes an after-thought. A deadline approaches, a meeting begins, an idea leaks from my mind to paper through a pen.
“Presence… not projects.” Am I fulfilling it? Am I doing this thing right? Are You in this, God or am I a whispering madman while my co-workers are hiding the coffee pot, convinced I’ve been eating the grounds?
“Presence… not projects.” The end of the day draws near. Meetings end. Agendas get thrown out after notes get taken. Someone who can write fast has jotted down something called minutes. I look towards the afternoon and the errands I have to run on the way home, hoping the kids have less homework than yesterday and wondering if we have what we need for dinner tonight. What is dinner tonight?
“Presence… not projects.” I pull out the laptop and write as the rest of the house drifts away in sleep. What was I going to say today? What are the right words? What is it that I missed?
And the whisper comes back to me.
“Presence IN the projects.”