A Quiet Soul

 October 11, 2021

Sometimes it’s hard to put my evening reflections out in public. In the past two weeks, I’ve officiated or been present at the funerals of three friends, sat with their grieving survivors, watched from a distance as my brother in law wages a see-saw battle for life itself, read once more about local families hoping against hope for information about their daughters’ disappearance years ago, and listened as parents are denigrated by school boards and political bullies who believe they know how to better raise their children than the parents themselves. 

Reflecting on my day’s activities always seems so small, even petty, by comparison. Yesterday after worship and family dinner, I retrieved some bees from a tree in the back yard of a parishoner. At first, it looked pretty straightforward. They had built comb out in the open in the branch of a maple. When it shed its leaves, the colony was exposed. My plan was to cut the branch and lower them intact into a hive body. Unfortunately, the branch bent at an angle when I cut it, the comb broke off, and landed in the back of my pickup. Bees were everywhere, and the comb was as you might imagine, not what I had envisioned. Rookie mistake. I got them home, and tomorrow will try to get everything squared away into their new home.

Today, Linda and I took the morning to visit the Marilla Country Store, a delightful excursion that yielded a few Christmas presents. In the afternoon, we four-wheeled it to the hilltop cornfield of Johnny Swanson, where we could see the hills and valleys undulating for miles in the distance.

See what I mean? We have been blessed beyond measure, and often ask ourselves, “Why us?” Writing about such things often feels like I’m not taking seriously the significance of others’ sorrow and pain. But then I remember that life is mostly made up of the little things that bind us together. Big events happen, but most of the time, we live on a much smaller scale, much closer to home. Which is why my favorite psalm is 131.

“Lord, my heart is not haughty, 

Nor my eyes lofty. 

Neither do I concern myself with great matters, 

Nor with things too profound for me. 

Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, 

Like a weaned child with his mother; 

Like a weaned child is my soul within me. 

O Israel, hope in the Lord 

From this time forth and forever.”

—Psalm 131:1-3 

I’m not smart enough to figure out the great matters of this world, so like a child leaning upon its mother’s breast, my world isn’t very large. It took God a good many years to whittle me down to size, chipping away at my pride and arrogant imagination. I have no desire to go back there, so loving my wife, praying for my friends, and caring for my bees are enough.