Monday, August 13, 2012

grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

Mumford and Sons, sing to my soul a little bit more, would ya?

Peeps, I was on a retreat this weekend, and it was beautiful. The retreat center's grounds were spacious and just chock-full of beautiful lawns and little coves and prayer gardens and grottos and what-not. Walking around the grounds was lovely and meditative. But do you know what immediately snaps you out of a meditative and reflective walks and wrings your heart with guilt and dismay? Stepping on a mole hill. Seriously. There were a ton of mole hills everywhere, and everytime I would inadvertently step on one, the springy, soft earth would collapse beneath me. And then I feel awful because: 
A) I think: what if I just stepped on the mole as well as the mole hill?!?! AHH Did I just kill a mole?!?
 B) I think: wow. I just ruined this intricate construction that this small creature worked so hard to build. When was the last time I made myself a house by digging into the ground? That'd be never, last time I checked. This creature has forged a house for itself out of the earth--what have I done with my life? [Interestingly, I don't feel this remorse while destroying spiderwebs. I also have never made a house for myself with a self-spun silken web. And I don't plan on it. And I also don't plan on ceasing to destroy spiderwebs--especially if they're in my bedroom. Perfect charity may be limitless; but mine ends where spiders begin.]

I should be packing. But the internet is full of beautiful things like this. Thank you, Mara, for that gem. My sister told me I'm good at wasting time. That's what we call a complinsult.

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