Let Your Soul Catch Up

I love my public library. I always wonder what delight I’ll find there. I was as surprised as everyone else to discover that I was a writer when Grief Denied – A Vietnam Widow’s Story, was published in December 1999.

I’ve done a lot of writing since then; such as blog posts and newsletters for my business but I’ve never completed a second book. These days I feel a strong nudge to write about my 70th year and all the miracles it contained.

When I dropped off a book at the library this week, I wandered around a little and found The Power of Pause – Becoming More by Doing Less, by Terry Hershey. The book is based on the principle of Sabbath, which means to cease and to rest. This book makes me pause, and my perceptions sharpen and I weep because this very act of pausing brings awareness of how many moments I have missed. When I pause, I see more, realize more, feel more, give more and enjoy life more.

I recently took a time management class, which was quite insightful.  I realized how much time I piddle away. Yet I don’t enjoy piddling because I feel guilty because I should be producing. I’m so geared to be productive. What has being so productive cost me?

When I was a child, we honored the Sabbath by attending mass at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church every Sunday morning. Mom dressed in her finest navy-blue dress, high heels, and a hat. Dad wore his only suit, white shirt and tie and his hat, course. All 5 kids were dressed up in our Sunday best.  After Mass mom made a big lunch – chicken and dumplings. I used to beg for a dumpling before she threw it in the boiling gravy.  After lunch, we all packed into the 1955 Chevy for a drive in the country to see our farmland. My father loved pulling a few ears of corn and wheat to bring back to display in his retail store. On Sunday’s evenings we had a light dinner with fried bologna sandwiches, Angel Food Cake and J-e-l-l-o. My father didn’t work on Sundays but as a Midwest housewife mother never stopped working.   The best part of the Sabbath was when mom collapsed into the swing on the porch for a brief rest. She rarely sat down so all five of us would scurry to grab the seat next to her.

In elementary school I had a paper route. Before and after school, I had to fold my papers, stack them in the newspaper bag, get that big bag in my bike basket and deliver them to every home’s front porch. I acquired the habit of being productive very early in life.

My physical therapist tells me to do the exercises she gives me so slowly that I start to cry. I’m not accustomed to moving so slowly and consciously. For this day I will pause, reflect, pray and be still so I don’t miss too many more minutes of my life. And work on my second book. 2016(c) All Rights Reserved. Pauline Laurent, CPCC

By Pauline Laurent

I am a story teller who believes that telling our stories not only unites us, it heals us. I had a story I was afraid to tell for 25 years. Keeping that secret almost destroyed. When I finally had the courage to tell, my life changed dramatically. I invite your stories, especially the ones you don't want to tell. Only you know what they are. In telling our stories we bear witness to our lives. What's your story? I'm curious.

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