September has arrived without asking permission and all we can do is watch in
unison as summer seeps under the horizon.
Every season has lessons but I tend to find summer is often
my most steadfast professor.
Perhaps it is when I am able to roam around my world without
dashing to seek cover from downpours, my mind becomes a reverse
umbrella collecting the tutorials of sunshine.
When I was in college, I didn’t have the opportunity to attend a summer
school session but those of my friends who did, described it as a fast paced
opportunity to learn.
It is a chance to dig deeply into a subject needing concentrated time and effort.
Over the course of the next week or two, I would like to share some of the subjects
I have been learning about this summer.
I hope you will join me.
The main reason there is a blog called A Work of Heart is because
of the lesson of paying attention.
Writing has always been a part of my life.
From obsessively practicing my handwriting as a child (and adult) to letter writing.
Words have always been my thing.
I didn’t pay attention to this reality.
It took 15 years working as a physical therapist to pay attention to
the glaring fact that EVERY performance evaluation I received touted writing as my
A Work of Heart was born when I felt brave enough to merge my thing
with what others were saying about me in
my work and personal life.
My thing is really God’s thing in me.
So…what’s God’s thing in you?
What is it that people say about you all the time?
If you don’t know, ask someone who knows you well.
What one or two things about you blesses someone else like no one else?
Once I started paying attention to the outflow my life, I found I wrote from a place
of paying attention.
My aim of writing a blog post, a card or an email had always been about encouragement.
I found a more defined call to encourage others to pay attention.
The picture above was taken in the midst of Carl’s brother’s 60th birthday
In the midst of the pulsing energy of this gathering, I looked away from the
merriment and gazed down.
I saw the tiniest ladybug, shiny, new, without a spot, and so fleet of foot.
Do ladybugs have feet?
Okay maybe fast legs is more accurate.
It took several attempts to capture it in frame.
This picture reminds me to pay attention.
No matter the pace of the day, when I slow down,
change the direction of my head, only God knows what I might behold.
Even in joyous times, like Wade’s party,
I can take a breath and offer myself to unanticipated experiences
I normally miss.
Just like that scrambling ladybug, if I am constantly
running here and there without purpose,
I won’t exist fully in the frame of my life.
Summer school lesson #1: