July 2019

A hush came over the room as she spoke. Soft piano music accompanied her words, covered by the sound of fan noise — a welcome breeze on a warm summer night.

It was Thursday evening, the last day of Music and Worship Arts Week at Lake Junaluska. We were gathered in the chapel, the open stained-glass windows ushering in the night air.

“I’m learning as I get older that it’s simpler and simpler day by day,” she said with a smile. Her voice was kind and inviting.

“There’s a flow of love that started when the stars began, and every morning we get a chance to decide to live into that love and then ask, ‘What's mine to do?’”

What’s mine to do?

I jotted the words down in a note on my phone. A simple question, a simple practice.

But how often do we stop to ask this question? It's easier to think we have to do it all: We've grown accustomed to a baseline of busyness — a constant hum of information and noise and instant gratification. We fill our waking moments with tasks and assignments and our work is never done (especially if you're a freelancer, like I talk about here).

But this is not just another thing to check off our to-do lists (show kindness to someone — check!).

Instead, I think it's an invitation to cultivate something deeper, a new way of living. Learning how to look and listen for the opportunities we’re given to participate in this holy work each day (like this book talks about — part of my summer reading recommendations list).

It's about learning to pay attention; choosing to live with intention, to open our eyes and our hands, to be ready; reminding ourselves of the power of being fully present and fully awake, and living like it matters.

Today is a new day and you get to decide how to live it. What’s yours to do?