at your feet

There are two pumpkin pies in the oven. Last week in our CSA share, we found a pie pumpkin, and I determined I was going to give this a go. They smell fantastic, but I am nervously checking on the crust periodically. God did not gift me with crust crimping skills, or with much luck when it comes to one crust pies not burning. We'll see, but I am pretty excited about them. Baking them has been an all day process, interspersed with some other food preparation -- including cooling time after roasting the pumpkin.

When I went to bed last night, my plan for the day was all laid out. But I woke this morning with a scratchy throat and a drippy nose. Not terrible, but enough to make me happy that I hadn't planned on going in to work and wondering if the cooking and baking would get done. I kept the day to just those activities, foregoing other errands I had been adding to my list. At lunchtime, I made some tea, intending to rest up a bit  by praying and doing some scripture homework before continuing with the pie. Before I could even begin, our youngest came home for lunch. A quick visit later, I wondered if I should just get the pies in the oven before I went up to finish what I hadn't even started. "No," I told myself, "sit down and rest a bit."

Of all the stories in the Bible that strike a chord with me, there is one in particular that for a long time gave me more discomfort than comfort. It took me a really long time -- most of my life so far, actually -- to even begin to consider why. Today I wrote in my Sacred Space, "How fitting that I spent the morning 'doing' and almost let myself get distracted by more doing when I decided to sit, read, and pray! ...." Mary and Martha have been duking it out in my heart for years. At times I've wondered why Jesus was so hard on Martha, or so easy on Mary, or even paid any attention to either of them. I've wondered why Martha addressed her problem to Jesus, instead of to Mary directly. I've wondered why Mary doesn't even speak. A year or so ago, the debate came up again: in different places over the course of an entire week, I came across some mention of Mary and Martha and Jesus. Having no idea why the series of mentions, I kept it all in my pondering place. Weeks later, after an experience that clarified Mary's place in the story to me, I began to utter a promise each day. "I will sit at your feet and listen."

Although I say it every day, I know I am not very good at actually doing it. I sit sometimes. I listen sometimes. I don't always make a point of just sitting and listening with the intention of hearing the story, of sharing the moment, of being right there, of being. Many times, I sit to listen, to hear. Mary was doing more than that. Martha could possibly have heard what Jesus was saying while she went about her chores. Perhaps that was part of her frustration: Mary would have been able to hear as she walked about, doing while the sound of His voice carried through the house. What Martha missed was the experience of hearing. The subtle nuances of facial expression and body language that enhance or change the meaning of the words, even ever so slightly. The occasional eye contact that emphasizes a point. The silent shake of the head that signals another thought flitting through the speaker's mind. The responses of the others there listening as well. Martha may well have been able to hear the words, but Mary was there to experience the story. When I make a point to do more than simply listen, to focus on where I am and what I might hear, or say, I find that I often feel more. I pick up on little things I might have otherwise missed. When I make a point to listen, to experience in prayer, I find that I listen better and experience more in my life, with my family and my friends. I'm less distracted, less likely to find some thing to do.

I will. I will sit at your feet, and listen to your stories, to your voice, to you."