Lately, all my thoughts, prayers and blog posts have related to the present moment. Now God has decided to teach me a new lesson, just in time for Lent: detachment.
I put holy rollers in my hair today and decided to live order, and live presently. It started off so well.
My day began with scones and tea with some lovely ladies, then Mass, then Latin Mass (because if you can go twice, why the heck not?), then the local chocolate festival, because I wanted to make sure my salivary glands were in proper working condition before Mardi Gras, then puddle stomping because it was raining, and because I have great tall boots and the maturity level of a child when it rains. Or when it's sunny, snowing, windy, or warm. Then I got to talk to a group of people about my experience doing mission work in the Dominican Republic, which was basically just me reminiscing audibly in front of a group.
And there I was, fat and happy, pleased with my day. I marched triumphantly back into my apartment, swinging wide the door, announcing my entrance and wallowing in my consolation. And thus begins my lesson in detachment.
It all started innocently, when I put some water in a pot and to boil broccoli. That's some healthy, orderly living. Fresh vegetables, Mama would be proud. I wasn't always this good. In fact, I'm pretty sure there was a solid 5 or 6 years of my childhood in which my diet consisted of flour tortillas and shredded cheese. Microwaved for 35 seconds, wrapped in a paper towel, not on a plate, so that the moisture retention was just so. Perfection.
So there I am, in my apartment, in front of our shattered oven door because we live on campus and pay way too much for things that fall apart because campus kitchens weren't built for people like my roommates and me who aspire to be pastry chefs, mothers and Martha Stewart clones. I digress again.
Broccoli florets bobbing happily in their bubble bath of ominous digestive doom, and then a phone call!
Should I answer? I let it ring once. Twice. I run to the phone. I run back to the broccoli. Three rings. I'm sweating. Not out of nervousness, just because I ran about 4 steps to and from the stove top.
And then, I remember this little blog, where I profess to be trying to live in the present moment. And of course, I should answer the phone, be the communal and relational being I was created to be.
It was a pleasantly casual conversation between friends.
Puffed up with joy, I skip merrily over to my roommate's bedroom to giggle and laugh and be joyful. On my way, mid skip and giggle, I see a puffing engine of steam. Oh BUSY.
I overcooked my broccoli to the point of mush because I was engrossed in a conversation. Now the only food items I have are shredded cheese, an egg, and an apple.
But my inner 7 year old is rejoicing. I think I'll go get some flour tortillas.