"When we recognize the Divine Presence everywhere,
then we know that it responds to us
and that there is a Law of God, a Low of Love,
forever giving of itself to us."
[Ed. Note: I think there might be 2 themes going on here that are not clearly connected. I've decided to go ahead and post it anyway. If you can make some sense of it, please leave a comment! me]
My dreams are often convoluted and a bit on the "strange" side. Last night I may have had a dream with a "sign" in it.
I was asked to make a dress for an older woman.
I went to her house to prepare.
She came home with several friends, all on the verge of what you might call ancient.
There was one older gent, also, but I'm not sure of his purpose other to be a friend and a go-between to the generations.
My mom kept calling to find out why I wasn't home.
I kept picking things up around the house because it was kind of cluttered in a Victorian sort of way i.e. stuff everywhere. *
The dress project was soon discarded. I spent more time helping the ladies get into bed.
The gent and I ended up on a bus which took us and several others to an old folks home.
I spent time listening and laughing and helping.
Listening, laughing and helping.
Is there a place I can go to work where this is the job description?
Today I'm grateful for a reminder from Brene Brown's blog. She quoted Brian Sutton Smith as saying, "the opposite of play is not work, it is depression."
Now in all honesty, I can't say that I work all the time. In fact, I probably work very little compared to others. But I'm not sure the time I spend NOT working is spent in play even though it could be said to be "time spent without purpose." ** That's kind of my problem isn't it - being without purpose. I think this must be one of those cases where there is a line between being helpful and hurtful.
I'm no stranger to depression. I've lived it and I see it all around me. When my Dad was told he had cancer and would probably die in 6 months I think he breathed a sigh of relief. He talked a good game ... I don't have a death wish. My life is in God's hands, etc. Maybe that was true, but it was also true, from my vantage point that he no longer wanted to live because the things that spelled "life" for him, wife, friends, work, health were gone. I don't think it was more evident than in the fact that he gave up playing. For two years most offers of getting out and doing or seeing something different, were met with growls and put downs. He refused medication to help lift his depression (I'm not depressed. When did you get your psychiatrist degree?)
But in the last months of his life, I noticed a slight shift.
- A desire to sit in the driveway facing his long-time home with a drink in hand, the evening sun behind him. I wish now I had been privy to his thoughts, but they needed to be private didn't they?
- Going to St. Augustine with my sisters and I for a salad and a bowl of black beans.
- Strolling slowly (yeh, and a little clumsily) through a display of Gingerbread houses and stopping to chat with ladies from the Historical Society.
- Putting on his Sunday clothes when he felt up to going to church.
These are things I've got photos of to remind me the importance of time spent without purpose. I think I'll go spend some play time just remembering.
Wishing for you some time for dreams and play,
* FYI: While my house is decidedly cluttered, it does NOT have a Victorian look about it!
** Stuart Brown