It was a typical early spring London afternoon, damp, low overhanging clouds, rain showers growing more frequent. I was in London playing “Granny” to two grandsons, three and one and a half. Two cousins, aged seven and five, joined us. By now the baby had awakened from his nap. A long, unplanned afternoon loomed with restless children. Adult action was necessary.
We headed to a nearby recreation center and “queued” for tickets for the next Kid’s House of Fun hour. We entered a child’s paradise, a giant bounce/play house: three stories tall, with at least a 900 sq. ft footprint. For about 20 minutes, all, even the baby, enjoyed the paradise of exploring and falling and jumping and climbing and hiding.
And then . . . two larger groups entered, most of the children between 6 and 11. These exuberant children, also restive from a school holiday spent inside, did what comes naturally. They ran through the tunnels and down the slides, bumping one another, knocking each other over, running faster, faster, faster. I felt like I was watching a movie in fast forward as they raced by my watchful eyes in hyper-speed, screaming louder with each pass, heedless who they trampled in the rush to get . . . nowhere. It was just a large maze, and all eventually ended at the same place, exactly where they started.
The rush to get nowhere–how typical of so much of human activity. Rush, rush, rush, hurry here, make that deadline there, don’t be late because something bad will happen, quicker, faster, speedier–GET THERE NOW BECAUSE IT HAS TO BE DONE THIS MINUTE OR . . .!!!!
Or what? What if it doesn’t get done? Well, frankly, sometimes it is pretty darn serious if it doesn’t get done. Some parts of life must be met head on with speed and expertise. But our frantic pace insists if something can be done faster, then it should be done faster. Our lives mirror the House of Fun maze. Racing through it faster only means getting back to where we began, and when we get there, we are tired, sweaty, and unsatisfied.
Stop. Just stop. Breathe deeply. Feel your heartbeat. Find silence and listen to it. Hear the wind in the trees; see if you can catch bird notes and crickets. Skip an activity, turn off the computer, the TV or DVD player, the iPod, your mobile phone. Do nothing. Even without your help, the earth will still rotate and the tides will come in and out. Life will go on. Stop. Listen not only for your heartbeat but for the heartbeat of God. Look for the redeeming love that holds the entire universe together, including the space where you sit this very moment. You are held, pondered, crooned over by the love of the Divine One.
Just stop for a while each day. Leave the frantic circular maze. The world will not end. And yours might begin again in freshness and renewed awareness of God.
The Rev. Dr. Christy Thomas, Pastor, First UMC, Krum
www.thekrumchurch.com, 214-418-9541, www.krumchurch.blogspot.com

