Being unoccupied

It's possible that St. Benedict had the same temperament as I do, and that means there's a chance for me to make it. I always thought of myself more like St. Martha--always busy, always in the details, always working. St. Benedict--he's a contemplative, and the closest I get to that is the tiny moments here and there that open up. Pretty frequently I get to see things as heaven wants me to see them.

It's not that the house is messy or the kids aren't dressed or the baseboards have gunk on them, even though that's usually what I'm concerned with. I look down and see little souls around me, entrusted to my care, laughing and living. Everyone in this household--even our skulking Foo Foo--is a gift and another help to me.

So St. Benedict reassures me a little here. Being unoccupied--which I rarely am--is one reason I take up this blog. I clean, I work, I teach, I knit, I cook, I play, and now I write some, too.