Random Order

It's been a busy week at work as the grant proposal I'm involved with nears conclusion, and many large pieces of the project fall into place. In focusing so heavily on making my fullest and best contributions to a final product that will hopefully be convincing, I've found myself a little too preoccupied with order and perfection to notice the random, scattered, and subtle reminders of God's presence around and within me. These days have been filled with some measure of tension– unsettled weather wavering between summer and fall, the semester's smoothly building momentum approaching a one-week break in mid-October, and baseball playoff races instilling a range of emotion, from swelling hope in St. Louis to frustrated exasperation in Red Sox Nation.

A friend's visit this weekend inspired a hiking trip in northwestern Massachusetts, where recent rains from two hurricanes have left a mountainous natural landscape lush with vegetation, as well as devastating flooding in the villages and towns nestled in the valleys below. The mere– in reality, a rather majestic– experience of being in the woods, sheltered from gentle rain by a canopy of leaves slowly altering their hues, surrounded by a preponderance of fungi and seeping dampness, instilled in me a renewed admiration for the beauty to be found in the flow of water, the slithering progress of a slug on a fallen log, or a single golden leaf suspended from an ethereal filament of a spider's long-abandoned spinning. Though all are merely elements of nature following physical laws, I saw them as portraying so much more.

Earlier in the week, praying with the Gospel story that describes the call of St. Matthew (Matthew 9:9-13), I was blessed with a similar realization about his response to an unexpected encounter with the divine. In my journal, I wrote, "Jesus didn't call a tax collector, he called Matthew... a distinction lost on those who focused on his occupation more than his identity. He may not have known how to be a disciple of Jesus, but he was convinced that he wanted to follow Jesus. I may not always feel capable in my job, but I want to offer myself to the mission I've been given, and the one who entrusts me with it."

These insights, and others throughout the week, weren't easily found amid the clutter of stress that I unconsciously allowed to gather around me. Thankfully, I'm getting better at settling myself during various moments, whether deliberately scheduled prayer times or serendipitous and unstructured intervals that emerge in a day's rhythm. The intentional effort of a planned hiking expedition yielded to surprises and wonders I could never have imagined or planned. I'm hesitant to abandon too much of the structure in my life, yet I'm stirred to delve more deeply into the divinely ordered mystery that provides the real vitality in the world, the people surrounding me, and the landscape of my existence.

[All pictures taken along Gould Trail, Mt. Greylock, Adams MA]