Receive Today.
On a walk in the rain yesterday I spotted a painted rock in the scrubby brown grass of a neighbor's front lawn. It was painted bright blue, shimmering, with the words in silver: "Today is your day." Its bright message was a gift, and I smiled because I have been meditating on the word "Today," and had already begun to hold onto it, like a stone in my hand. I have never before picked "a word for the year," which I know is a beloved practice for some, and it would be too strong to say that it feels like the word "Today" picked me. And yet it has slipped itself into my hand. The word "Today" has begun to hold my hand, and I have received it.
I'm practically an addict when it comes to believing that bigger is better, or wanting to short-cut the necessary demands, disciplines, and even constraints that lead to a flourishing life. But over the last few years, I have learned in the living what others have taught me: What we do each day shapes us far more than singular and grand gestures. My writing each day, or most days, is how real writing happens. The fact that I have to write that down here is testimony to how much I try to avoid that reality and remind myself of it. What I need to do needs to be practiced today.
For me, it's writing and study; for you, it might be something else: a daily walk or run, reading a passage of Scripture, a yoga practice, sweeping off of the front porch, drinking one more cup of water, calling your family member. These small, obscure tasks are precious in and of themselves and have the power, over time, to strengthen and lengthen muscles, cultivate minds and hearts, witness to greater realities, and keep faith, hope, and love alive.
Last October, I picked up a box of cards from the All Saints Sisters of the Poor convent that reads in artful calligraphy: Every ending holds within it the seeds of a new beginning. The Benedictine aphorism "Always, we begin again," is a fitting motto for today, and again for tomorrow's today; a commission for any person who is in status viatoris: a pilgrim on the way.
Two years ago, I wrote in my blog about wanting to be more committed to writing and to accepting that it was time to let go of some old dreams. It was strange to look back to that time in my journaling, before COVID overshadowed so much of the world's attention. And yet, despite all that distance and change, I recognize the persistent patterns of my mind and heart, and I can also see that how moments or events that looked only like endings to me at the time contained within them the seeds of new beginnings. There is always hope. Always.
And there is hope today: in today and for today. Our task is to do today what today requires, as small as it may be.
What's ahead: I'll be speaking at John Brown University at the beginning of next month, so my next writing tasks will be preparing for a chapel talk and evening address, and visiting in a classroom or two. I am really excited about this opportunity, and so if you know of any students enrolled there, I'd love to be on the look-out for them!
Books I'm picking up: Breaking Ground, edited by Anne Snyder and Susannah Black. This is one not to miss -- an incredible line-up of thinkers, leaders, and writers.