. . . like Wednesday morning of this week. An almost perfect early hour at breakfast. You know- one of those “rare days in June” (James Russell Lowell) except this is August. Deep blue skies, gentle cool breezes causing the tree branches to lift and dance. Blue birds bathing in the near water bath. Austrian coffee in my Danish cup. Tom enjoying fresh biscuits–makes happy for him. I was reminded of Psalm 96: 11: “Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it; let the fields be jubilant and everything in them. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy. . .”
A moment I want to linger long. . .here, this NOW. I just want to stay right here forever–well, for a couple of hours. Please.
(This is Tom before my lingering began. . . . 🙂 But we enjoy lingering together, too.) and served on a tablecloth from Switzerland 🙂
But I can’t linger; I can’t live long in perfection. The morning grew hot, the birds began fighting, the coffee was cold. Someone called, and we cried. No, we sobbed together.
A rainy Monday morning- today. It is not only a relief shower on a hot August day; this is a soaking, needful, steady downpour. I wanted to run barefoot in the wet grass, but I chose rather to open my window, to sit and listen. To linger. . .while listening, pondering. The earth is dry, begging for more.
I, too, sit and beg for more. The drops wash the dry earth and my physical body relaxes as I hear His presence strong in the rain. Oh, please can it rain all day like this, and I will linger. . .in this NOW. “Be still, and know, Barb, that I am here, that I am who I say I am. . . Psalm 46: 10 (my personal paraphrase.)
Just now, a small prop airplane, sounding like the old propeller D-3, passes overhead and I am forced to stop and remember. . . I am 11 years old, lazily swinging on the porch at my grandparents’ on a hot July afternoon. I lingered there . . . oh, I want to stay here. Sixty years later, I am swept away in those memories of security, of silly girlish stuff, of reading countless books in as many endless hours on that porch. I hear the silence, echoing the creak of the rusty hinges of the swing; I sense the stillness as the drone of the bees match the fading plane’s. I am reluctant to leave these moments. Let me stay awhile, please.
Lingering is necessary. . . lingering in the precious moments of the past enables me to smile, to remember, to be grateful. But more than that, lingering, pondering in the present, in the sounds of the rain today, keep me centered. Focusing on what is important . . .to find Him in this. . . NOW.
I remember when I could not linger anywhere on any level during those painful months of last year due to the diagnosis of Q-fever and Babesia. Every breath, every thought and activity were spent on surviving the moment–often hopeless. I know the pain of emotional, physical and mental issues. I encourage you -if you cannot linger today–try to believe you can tomorrow. And practice, staying in the good moments a bit longer–in silence, in the sun, in the rain, on a walk. . . to find a moment with Him.
Lingering—long.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten …
―James Russell Lowell
If you don’t know this poem and its meaning, you might want to discover this nugget and linger a bit.
a journey to now 