Disconnected, or Not


Early every Saturday morning I have the distinct pleasure of a twenty-five minute walk through well-groomed quiet neighbourhoods to my part-time job at a grocery store. Been doing this for seven years.

I pass my son's old high school and a church and a separate school property and playground, several beautiful Rose-of-Sharon bushes, some flowering lilies, a young tradesman filling his pick-up with tools for some Saturday over-time,and the occasional smiling retiree or dog-walker. Birds are always part of the experience, and their singing, particularly the cardinals, finches, robins and mourning doves.

A passer-by will usually give me the courteous knowing nod, as if to say, "Haven't we found the best part of the day?" Two back-yard dogs, Schnauzers, will acknowledge me, the one cranky and barking, his partner apologetic. A couple of times surprisingly, in some green corner, I have seen the sleeping homeless or hung-over.

You won't find me "plugged in" with either cell-phone or music to my ears. This short excursion is "private property". I appreciate the quiet and the chance to think or pray. Frequently a strain of thought will come out of left-field, apparently non sequitur, but having that sort of character which suggests God origin.
Messages, writings and much comfort and correction have come in this fashion. I enjoy His company.

In these special short times I consider myself to be most definitely "connected". Are we as a society losing the quiet, the time and the inclination to meditate? To smell the roses? Pity.

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