The Wednesday Pop - vol. 7 . . . It's Hammock Time

My Dad is a smart man.  I've told you that before.  He has a lot of things figured out, and it may surprise you that he is also the world's great rester.  Yes, rester.  He has an unbelievable talent with rest.

He is able to take a short nap in almost any place you could imagine!  He naps on the couch in his office.  He can nap on the ground during a picnic.  He once found a room away from the action and napped while we spent the day at my kids' school!  He's a champion rester!

He slips away from a family gathering, finds a bed, has a rest and gets involved in the conversation again, faster than you would believe.  While the rest of the folks sit around complaining about all that needs to be done or yawning lazily as the conversation lags, he takes a nap!  Oddly enough, when he arises, he's whistling a happy tune and running circles around the rest of us!

I love a good hammock - I assume everyone does - but no one has the relationship with the hammock that my father does.  He is one with any hammock he has ever met!  So, here is where I relate my unbelievable trip to Nicaragua to my Dad's love for resting . . .

In Nicaragua, there are hammocks everywhere!  Unlike our backyard hammocks, swaying alone in the breeze, these hammocks are used and used all of the time!

Are the folks in Nicaragua lazy?  Are they trying to dream away their work?  Do they not have enough to do?

Nope, that's not it.  They have plenty to do, just like my Dad.  Funny thing, though . . . they've figured out that more gets done when one is rested.  They've also figured out that a body and a mind needs rest and that sometimes just dreamily watching the waves or praying or meditating right in the middle of a day is a very good thing.

Once on my trip, I found myself in a hammock.  (Well, actually more than once I found myself in a hammock, but that's not the point here.)  I was talking with another friend on the trip, and we were discussing how odd it was to 'just rest' right in the middle of the day.  I began to think about Pop, my Dad, and something very important dawned on me . . . 

He might rest more than anyone I know, but he also gets more done than anyone I know.  What's up with that?  Apparently, my Dad and some friends in a far away land have discovered something that the rest of us busy people don't yet understand.  

It makes sense to rest in the middle of the day when a body and a mind get tired or when the sun beats down so heavily that simple movements are difficult.

Folks who rest more, do more.  It's that easy.  So, why don't I act on that?  Why don't you?  Why do we feel like we have to act busy all of the time?  Who's watching?  Why do we care?

Seems to me, I just visited with folks who understand far more than most of us.  They have cool, colorful hammocks at their houses, and they use them.

Sometimes they take to a hammock when they are tired from the morning's work.  Sometimes they get in side by side hammocks and have lazy visits, talking about whatever arises.  And sometimes, they just take a few minutes or a few hours and get away from their real world to spend a while with God or with themselves.  Sometimes they just rest.

I'm more than impressed by this talent.  I want to put into action what my Dad and my friends in Nicargaua already know.  

Resting is a good thing.  

A very good thing.  

I think we should start a trend.  What do you think?

Picture Prayers

Last week, my family was lucky enough to spend a few days at Kanuga.  If you read that, Cah knew gah, you've pronounced it correctly.  As far as I'm concerned, there are few places that compare to this  peaceful, fun, sacred space.  For years, folks have flocked to Kanuga for rest and renewal, for study and learning and to delight in nature alongside family and special friends.  It is a magical place.

Over the past few years, we have been invited to Kanuga for my Tim to serve as chaplain for a summer guest period full of happy folks on their yearly pilgrimage to the Blue Ridge mountains to a time and place that seems to stand still.   Normally, we are filled with the anticipation of a restful time, full of laughing and praying and walking and game-playing and long, lazy talks and learning and on and on and on.  This time, though, we were on the cusp of a big decision, a life-changing one that had the whole family on edge.

We were facing a big decision about leaving what we know and beginning a new adventure.  We were deep in thought; and, if I'm to be honest, we were angst-filled, too.  We were on edge.  We weren't ourselves.  We weren't 'doing what we do' at Kanuga.  We enjoyed our summer friends immensely, but we couldn't reach that peace-filled place that usually sets in about an hour after arrival.  We were surrounded by majestic beauty and quiet mossy waterfalls, but we weren't relaxing into it all.  The Kanuga lake was there in all its refreshing splendor, but our splashes in it weren't quite as care-free as most summers.  We were happy to be there, but our hearts were tied in knots.

We made our big decision while we were there.  We felt the push to leave what we know and begin another chapter in this crazy life.  We will soon make a move from Covington, Ga to Columbus, Ga - from Good Shepherd to Trinity.  Deciding feels good, but thinking about going home to begin the good-byes put us in an insular, awkward place.  I was happy to be surrounded by God's beauty; but I had a hard time wrapping my brain around all that was to come, and it was difficult to take from Kanuga all that it so freely gives.

One warm night after dinner, I wandered away from the group.  I grabbed my camera bag and headed down the hill, toward the lake, to have some quiet.  I reached for my camera with a confidence that it would help me see things in a different way.  I wanted to be silent.  I wanted to pray.  I wanted to gather myself, and I knew that the camera's lens was the friend I needed on the walk.

It might sound odd to pray with a camera, but I've done it a lot.  Bringing along the camera, makes me stop.  It makes me move slowly and watch.  Having the camera, and being alone, means I take my time.  I look more closely.  I take in the scene and I give it the thought needed to begin to understand.  I pause, I thank God for the moments I was too busy to notice before, and I listen.

I focus.  I press the shutter.

I pause.  I think.  I listen.  Sometimes I re-focus and press the shutter again. I'm not working towards perfection.  I'm not considering anyone else.  It's just me, being quiet and listening.  It's good for the soul - of that, I am sure.

I won't forget that walk.  I needed it.  I'll try to remember it.  I'll take with me the idea of knowing when it's time to walk away to focus, re-focus, press pause on the moment, be thankful and listen.  It's a good routine, I think, and I'm sure life always requires it.

That day I shot some photos I've already taken before.  That wasn't the point.  The process was what I needed - the seeing, the listening, the thanksgiving.

The pictures just help me remember.