My friend Addie is four and lives in her own little world.  In Addie’s world there is no hurry.  In her world you can wear your clothes backwards and change them every hour.  In Addie’s world there is lots of singing.  There is much dancing.  There is no need to brush your hair.  Addie’s world is a collage of projects and music and make-believe games.  She occasionally emerges from her world and greets my world with a word of affection or a hug or a randomly placed, “buenos dias”.  She may remind you she is four and then revert back to her world of daydreams and songs.

I find myself being jealous of Addie and her sweet oblivion.  Even when her mom gets frustrated with her, it doesn’t seem to shake her out of her own rhythm.  This is something I pray she holds onto.  It seems other people can constantly shake me out of my rhythm; a misinterpreted comment here, a judgmental response there, my own off perceptions of what others think, all cause me to fall in line with the expectations of others instead of living merrily in the space God intended for me.  Right when I think I’ve given up any concern for what others think, it comes back, sneaking into my thoughts and perceptions.

When I got back home to Costa Mesa after spending two months in rural Oregon, I went to visit a friend who has been working on getting her immigration status in order.  As we chatted, she pointed out that they had some boxes packed up.  "If things don't work out with our immigration process, we are moving back to Mexico," she said.  She went on to talk about the new furniture they bought to take with them.  "We don't want to arrive with empty hands," she explained.  She went on to talk about the shame they would experience if after all these years working in the U.S. they returned with nothing to show for it.  So they are preparing to return, hands full, to prove their success.

As I walked home her comment, "We don't want to arrive with empty hands" played over and over in my mind.  The next day I would return to work after my sabbatical. The time was meant to be spent in rest and prayer, quieting my heart and mind.  As I prepared to re-engage with ministry work I was feeling similar to my friend, I didn't want to return with empty hands.  The last week away my thoughts had turned to articulating my experience.  How could I explain to others the things happening in my heart and mind?  How would I share with my community the thoughts and convictions that had deepened and changed in both subtle and dramatic ways?  I didn't want to arrive with empty hands.