New Thoughts

The last two days, I've noted an increase in new thoughts that don't readily seem to fit my normal thought patterns. I have had these types of thought before, but generally not as frequent as they have been recently. Whether these are inspired by the Spirit or are just a new way of thinking, I don't know. At the moment, I am leaning on the former, as they seem to present a valuable message to another. Even so, I remain very hesitant to share them unless they are accompanied by very strong emotions when I just end up blurting something out.

There were two I distinctly recall from yesterday, both within a span of minutes while I was busy with the kitchen crew as we cleaned up following the Sunrise Service breakfast.

The minister came into the kitchen for a damp paper towel. The Sunrise Service took place at a nearby lake and, with the misting morning weather, the soil was damp and clung to his shoes. He told us as he scrubbed them that he spent time cleaning and polishing them for Easter service and how his mother would scold him if she saw the shoes now. The thought that came to my mind, however, was this: If it was not for the soil, where would the seeds be planted? 

It felt like I was being asked to speak these words, but I held back. Fearful. Stubborn. After all, who was I in grimy stained clothes, my disordered hair pinned back into a ponytail, with no education in being a minister, to speak these words to a well-loved and well-respected minister? Especially as this wasn't even my church; I was a visitor here...

The words echoed through my head a number of times. I could see they were not really accusatory; they contained both love, and a gentle reminder about where his focus should be: the people, not appearances. But my lips remained still as I stood there wrestling with the thoughts. My own stubbornness and fear cost us both that blessed moment.

The second moment happened soon afterwards. Interestingly, the thought started repeating in my head before the occasion to use it arrived. I was scrubbing down the 10-burner stove with a kitchen rag.  and the thought: I don't leave my mother's stove in such condition. Why would I leave a stove in my Father's house in such sad shape?

A few minutes later my mother-in-law, as well as several others, kept telling me that I shouldn't work so hard at cleaning the stove. After all, it was a disgusting mess when we got there in the morning. More, we only used four burners, not all ten. I pointed out that the scrambled egg did splatter and dribble a bit while we were cooking. Many came over to tell me to stop. It became more and more annoying, moreso because I had that thought bouncing through my head wanting to come out. Finally I had it and wanted to finish the stove without further interruption. So I blurted out to someone: "Look at it this way: If I don't leave my mother's stove in this condition, why would I leave our Father's stove that way?" My voice, especially when I am upset, is loud and carries far. There was no further arguments from anyone in the kitchen.

Granted, I spent the next few minutes scolding myself that I screwed up on the words. It was supposed to be "the stove in our Father's house" not "our Father's stove." I often get that kind of backlash when I do speak these thoughts. :P

I will also admit, despite the hesitation it was easier to speak to the rest of the kitchen crew; we were on the same level. I wish I had more courage as the first thought was a nugget that was lost...