A little bird alighted on my window sill the other day - he ran hither and thither on the roof in front of the window, allowed me to photograph him briefly and then fluttered off.
I spend a lot of time staring out my window, often wishing I were like that bird; able to flutter off on a whim, content to let the breeze blow me where'er it might.
It's a form of escapism I know; for some it's Middle Earth, others it's Gossip Girl, mine though is a combination of coffee, cloves and The Shins whilst staring out the window or in the warmer months, sitting out the window, and wishing I weren't here.
It's not an entirely unproductive passtime to be sure. I strike deals with God, make life decisions and approach true inner-peace.
Escapism though is not a conduit for living in the present.
For much of this past year I feared moving beyond my window gazing into interaction with others. I feared being drawn into their lives and by degrees, coming to love them.
I was tired of loving people.
Loving people requires compassion and action and involvement - it requires actively living in the present.
I feared loving people here, the way we are called to love people, would require that I abandon those that I hold most dear but that are not with me physically.
More than that, I feared that being deeply involved in the lives of people here would either:
a.) cause me to love the people of Los Laureles less.
b.) cause yet more pain and emptiness when I one day move on from life here.
I believe my personal vacation, as someone I know has termed it, this past January, as much as anything broke down that wall of fear that had hemmed me in for the previous 7 months.
Broke it down I say, not toppled it entirely.
I still hold onto the duality a bit.
Since returning though I have felt myself compelled to take a more active role in the lives of certain people here. To the love them as Jesus calls us to love them - for his sake.
For their sake.
For my sake.
Now that I know I won't be here forever I'm beginning to wish I had begun this process sooner; that I had heeded the nudge of the Spirit when I first felt it months ago.
I feel the clock ticking. There is much to do and not much time.
Certainly no time for window gazing...
For what it's worth, this is what was outside my window this afternoon:
Not exactly a "Springy" Spring.