Tuesday, August 13, 2013
A Different Kind of Sunday Morning Prayer
When I sat down for my "sacred space" yesterday, I heard the "click-click-click." If you keep up with my posts, you might remember the one I journaled a few weeks ago about the Unwanted Guest. As far as I could tell, there was (is) some kind of critter making its home under the armoire that houses my computer -- though I have not heard it since I had the exterminator give me a couple of sticky pads. However, yesterday's noise alerted me again to the situation. But this time, it wasn't coming from my left, but from my right. And knowing I could in no way concentrate, I got up to investigate.
I first looked in a bag hanging on the back of the Jefferson rocker. Nothing in there I could see. So I attuned my ears a little more, determined to find this source of irritation. And there it was. A very small caterpillar, not more than a quarter of an inch in length ... caught in what seemed to be an invisible web. Quite frankly, I didn't know a small insect could make such a noise. But I guess if I were to find myself in the same situation with an 8-legged creature hovering above me, I could make some pretty hefty sounds, too. And that's exactly what he was doing.
I know this may sound really strange, but something about the whole scenario intrigued me; so I got my coffee from the table next to the couch and placed myself cross-legged on the floor, and for the next 15-20 minutes, I just sat and watched.
Though there was some pity for the little creature that was caught, it was, actually, all quite interesting. When the caterpillar would stop its clicking sound, the female spider would come down her web. When she got close to her captive, he would begin his noise making again, and she would retreat back up the web to her mate (who would scurry away from her). Then I noticed something interesting. The caterpillar was slowly being lifted off the floor. Yes, somehow the spider was pulling him up toward her.
Like I said, the whole thing was so fascinating to watch.
It would be easy to surmise that my quiet time that morning was a total waste. But I beg to differ. Could it be that it was not only NOT a waste of time but a moment of sacredness as I entered into the moment ... the "now"? As I partook of the Creator by stopping to partake of His creation?
Sometimes I think we confuse praying with prayerfulness. For sometimes prayer happens without any prayers.
Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always...
Just an ordinary moment...