Dear friends, we are between Noels, past and pending. Welcome to “Oasis: Between Noels, Part II.”
Errands . . . gatherings . . . holiday lists . . . To misquote Hamlet, “To do or not to do, that is the question.”
Dare I multitask? Count hurry a virtue, knowing the word “haste” once meant “violence”?
A slower pace might evoke peace.
Consider the camel. Measured, intentional steps plod across shifting dunes, thus prevent the body from sinking.
When I married Dreamer, unresolved childhood sorrows sometimes buried me. “Tell me a story,” I said one day, desperate for a distraction.
Enter “Luigi the Camel.” Dreamer launched what would become a tradition.
For instance: Accidentally kidnapped one day, hapless Luigi headlined the visiting circus. On a wintry eve in December, Luigi gate-crashed the school Christmas pageant.
To this day, I cannot spell the sounds that camel makes! If laughter is medicine, Luigi reliably shoos away my blues.
Camels, I think, must be optimists. For one thing, a camel instinctively knows how to cope. Escalating heat? No worries; fur reflects light. Plus, the animal’s remarkable countercurrent blood flow cools the body as well as brain.
Fatty tissue stored in the hump can be metabolized into water as well as energy. Ingenious nostrils cradle precious expelled vapor, reabsorb it for later use.
Might these conserving actions relate to treasuring the Word in one’s heart? So many words already fill my holiday lists. I also want to store God’s Word within.
I need an oasis. A daydream. A side-trip, real or not.
I could follow Luigi into Macy’s. Or take a backyard mosey, shoeless, like Moses, padding into the realm of stillness where an eloquent bush might, for a moment, blaze, as if it knows my name.
“So much depends on the light,” Margaret Atwood says, “and the way you squint.”
Give me prayer, practical as a camel’s translucent third eyelid: moving back and forth, sweeping away debris; clearing vision, for close-ups as well as vistas.
Did you know the Arabic word for camel means “beauty”?
Friends, may we step lovely toward the unknown . . .
Here’s a walking prayer I’m using these days, a verbal oasis. In waltz time, hold each line in your mind, or speak or sing it aloud, with each inhale and exhale.
I am Yours,
chosen and known,
evermore,
Yours alone.
Even now,
breath and bone,
Holy Noel,
sing me home.
P.S. In Kenya the Camel Library carries books to far-flung folks, thirsting for stories, poetry, knowledge.
Scout each day’s waiting oasis. Sip. Savor. Absorb, and store up goodness. Will you join me?
“To do, or not to do.” In what ways will you refresh others this season?
Speaking of oases and camels: You might also enjoy: Packing Light: 9 Ways to Reclaim Joy
Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash
Photo by Roxanne Desgagnés on Unsplash
These…
Might these conserving actions relate to treasuring the Word in one’s heart? – I like/see the comparison.
“So much depends on the light, and the way you squint.” – Margaret, our Canadian girl. 😉
Holy Noel,
sing me home. – yes, please.
Thank you.
Bless you.
Dear Rick, it means so much to know which lines resonate with a reader. And so often you gently introduce or expand an idea that inspires me in numerous ways. How I appreciate your heart for God and for others as well as your support of this blog over the years!
Wishing you and your clan a most marvelous Christmas.
And I appreciate your heart shared in words, creatively.
Bless you, and yours.
rm
Thank you!
Thank you for this oasis of calm, Laurie. I have sipped and savored your fascinating info about camels, your creativity woven into the walking prayer, and your wisdom to consider that a slower pace might evoke peace! I do believe it might.
Nancy, thank you for slipping in for a bit during such a busy season. I’m glad you found food for thought here, and savored the marvelous beast. I don’t know that I’ll ever meet, or dare ride, a camel, but I am feeling a most unexpected kinship now with the “the ships of the desert.”
Wishing you Advent oases, this week and next, as you prepare for Christmas . . .
What a beautiful walking prayer, Laurie. Thank you for this opportunity for oasis. The rhythm you’ve chosen lends itself to music (as you point out a waltz). I found myself singing the words. Makes for a delightful Christmas carol that could be sung throughout the year. <3
I am so happy to imagine those simple words singing themselves aloud, through you! Thank you for telling me, friend. And blessings on each step before you this day . . .
You’ve given us a few gifts, Laurie.
First, the invitation to pause and ponder your written thoughts. They’re a mental oasis wrapped with palm tree bows.
At this oasis, you’ve given us some word meaning and surprising info treats to savor. They’re like chocolate truffles to enjoy during the pause.
Then, before stepping away from this oasis, you’ve given a musical prayer to jingle with Love’s Joy while walking into our unknowns.
Thank you, for the gifts, Laurie.
May eloquent bushes light up your heart as you mosey into more moments of stillness.
Dear Carol, WOW! thank you for finding the equivalent of palm trees and truffles, eloquent bushes and inviting music as well as lively movement. I love the way you see the world and am always so blessed by your comments. A true gift for me today, and a timely encouragement.
Two more posts in this little Advent series . . . hope you enjoy them!
Oh Laurie, you always find the most marvelous, inspiring parallels–thank you! and the camel facts. What a surprise.
I’ve printed your brief, waltzing, walking prayer–I particularly like the lines about being chosen and known.
How rich we are in Christ’s love–thank you for the reminder.
Dear Jody, thank you for welcoming my sometimes quirky angles when it comes to writing. Your words are so encouraging. I greatly enjoy being surprised and delighted by our Creator’s creation, and it’s such fun to share what I learn with others.
I read somewhere this week that wonder is the beginning of wisdom. May it prove true!
I hope the prayer blesses you, along with whatever substitutions and additions you creatively add (do let me know!).
Thank you for reminding me today of the wealth of God’s love, which I sometimes take for granted. Grateful for you,
Mmmm, just soaking in your words is an oasis this morning. Thank you, Laurie. I am joining you in this: “Scout each day’s waiting oasis. Sip. Savor. Absorb, and store up goodness.”
Noticing in response a quote plus 2 poems wanting to join hands with your words, forming a playful, dancing circle.
Dallas Willard would speak of “the ruthless elimination of hurry.” This is such a life-giving practice for me. What a difference when I succumb to hurry, What a difference when I join the camel in its pace.
Then, these 2 poems:
“All afternoon, each time
I think I should hurry,
I pull out a comma,
such humble punctuation,
and I invite it into the moment,
and the comma does
what it always does, which
is to invite a pause, a small pause,
of course, but a pause long enough
to breathe, to notice what else
is happening, a slight
suggestion that right here
is a perfect place to rest,
yes, how funny I never noticed
before the comma itself
looks as if it’s bowing, nodding
its small dark head to what is,
encouraging us to find
a brief silence and then,
thus refreshed, go on.” ~ Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
“When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me, the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.” ~ Mary Oliver
Oh, Amber, thank you for the Willard quote and those lines from two poets I love. And yes, all hold hands! Grammatically speaking, I’ve joked and at times felt sheepish about loving commas too much. No more apologies now that I realize its inherent, spiritual secret!
Wishing you hours that lilt and light your steps this season, dear friend . . .