As often happens with bloggers, I have been remiss in updating. Just for good measure, my reasoning is sound. I was hoping to get something resolved and then write an informative, educational post about the process of resolving it. However, the thing is, as yet, unresolved, and so thus, no post. But it doesn't really matter, because here I am now!

Here's something I've been thinking about lately: I would liked to be more mindful of my actions.

mindful: bearing in mind; attentive to, regardful, observant
(Thank you, Google search.)

Addendum from an article my dad sent me:
"Mindfulness is a mental faculty, like intuition or musical ability. It reminds you of what you didn't know you had forgotten, and wakes you when you didn't realize you were sleeping -- or daydreaming.

Mindfulness points out what ordinarily escapes conscious attention, what's hidden in plain view -- what we've overlooked or forgotten because it doesn't fit our interpretations, or pertain to our goals, or because it makes us feel uncomfortable.

Mindfulness does its work before intellect and emotion have had a chance to bring their judgments, interpretations, names, categorizations, or biases to bear on perception. It feels light and nimble, and comes in a flash -- out of the corner of the eye -- as if with a sideways glance, without grasping or looking directly.

Why bother cultivating mindfulness? Among its many welcome side effects are deep serenity and a patient, tolerant understanding of others, but it is worthwhile in itself for reasons that must be experienced to be appreciated. In a word, it awakens us.

Without mindfulness, we function as if on autopilot, only partially aware of who we really are or what we're doing."

That awareness and lack of autopilot is what I think I'm craving.

Last night at the Bible study Hubby and I have been going to we talked about the desire of so many in the Scriptures to SEE Jesus and how we, as His modern-day disciples, must BE that face to the world. It of course made me think of all the days I have spent in an unnecessary funk, the times I have snapped at people and decidedly NOT been the face of Jesus. But it also made me think of all the times I have done things that may have caused others to think they were seeing the face of Jesus without my even realizing it.

Now, I think there is a lot to be said for doing good in the world without hoping for any recognition or credit, but that's not exactly what I'm talking about.

Here's an example: A few weekends ago, Hubby and I went to a very poverty-stricken small town and helped the young adult group from church lead a day-long sports camp. I was in charge of herding around a group of 1st and 2nd graders all day. I had a good time, and I think they had a good time, but I honestly was mostly concerned with getting them to the next activity, helping them get water, counting heads, and leading chants. I didn't give much thought to sharing Jesus with them, nor did I expend much mental or emotional effort on realizing that what I was doing was, in the best essence, sharing it regardless of whether I specifically mentioned Him or not.

At the end of the day, others who had been involved with the camp spoke of the sweet thoughts they had had about what this day would mean in the lives of these kids, and what it must have felt like for them to experience the love, joy, and even just FUN that we brought for the day.

I had none of these epiphanies throughout the day, and I wish I had. I wish I had taken some moments to note the kids' smiles, to say a quick prayer for whatever I might have been imparting to them, to realize that I WAS showing the face of Jesus by being there with them.

When we do objectively "good" things, I think it is possible to show the face of Jesus without realizing it. And I think if He is truly in is, we will do so often, because His love will simply exude.

But I want to pay attention to what I do. I want to realize that He is acting through me (when He is), and I want to be thankful for it.

I want to be mindful.

Laura Lindeman

Laura Lindeman