So begins my grand experiment...well, not so cliche as all that...what begins is trying to write down what has already occurred (hopefully, what shall continue to occur), but only occurred in snippets and bits in the past.

Frank Laubach's book Letters by a Modern Mystic first came to my attention in a book entitled Devotional Classics (2005)edited by Richard J. Foster and James Bryan Smith. It wasn't until 2009 that I was still enough (losing one's job does that for you) to let the eleven excerpted passages speak to me. Basically, I was an Amen audience. I could say to Laubach: "Preach it, brother" because daily God was speaking to me. But then, just as today, when I am sitting here sick in bed, I wasn't going anywhere. I mourned the loss of community because of the loss of my job, even as I knew my decisions were led by God -- I had laid down my life for my friends. I mourned the passing of that life, but God was there every step of the way turning my mourning into dancing.

Within a year I danced with joy and gratefulness; my dance card filled up (for the non-classical readers, in pre-21st century times, ladies had dance cards with times alloted to each dance. The gentlemen would ask for a dance and the ladies would fill their dance card time slots with the names of the gentlemen).

Now, I find I have too many dances to choose from. With freedom from my job came freedom from certain time constraints. I had the freedom to choose. I think I must change my metaphor to a sports one (a decision some of you may cheer) to give a clearer picture. God has many teams and He does not intend for us to be on all those teams; yet, a great many of those teams clamor for our participation. At this moment in my life I feel the thrill of being the watergirl here, the captain there, the goalie here, and the equipment manager there -- many of those chosen by God, but somehow I find myself missing practices, attending games irregularly, and double booking meetings.

Set times with God are still regular -- slowing down, silence, nature (let's call them Team Presence of God) -- all these are part of the rhythm of my life. It's just any minute not doing these practices was/is irrhythmic (oh dear, I can't find that in the dictionary; I guess I have to settle for rhythmless)...skewed. I thought God wanted me on Teams A, B, C, and brought teams D, E, and F into my life. And, of course, Teams Wife, Mom, and Grandmother are givens.

Since I've used letters for team names, may I switch my metaphor once more? There are only seven notes in music, A through G, with many variations. Yet, even with those variations there needs to be beat, melody, and harmony.

My instrument is out of tune and I need my composer to choose the notes because I'm the type of instrument that helps out other instruments when I shouldn't. Or, for those of you who preferred the sports analogy: I'll be playing soccer when the basketball coach next door runs up to me and says, "I need your help. Just be my fifth man," and I go. I am learning to Stop, Think, Listen now before I plunge headlong into a game God never intended me to play.

The other area I'm working on is distractions. I recently came across this reflection by Henri Nouwen: "Imagine your life as a cup overfull of opinions, ideas, and activities. Make a list of the many distractions that you might want to ask God to prayerfully to remove..."

In sports terms, I'll be sitting on the bench during the soccer game and find myself wandering over to the basketball game. After all, I wasn't busy at the time, right?

In musical terms, my instrument doesn't play for a while and I get so wrapped up in what is going on with the rest of the orchestra that I miss my cue (Miss my cue? -- That's drama, right? Miss my beat? My entrance? My note?)

All of this brings me back to Frank Laubach who wanted every minute of every day to be concious of God. In this new season, through spiritual direction, God has turned my eyes back to Laubach's writings, this time to twenty-seven pages of his writings (free online; although, I think there is a new book of excerpted letters out, also)instead of just five pages.

What I am looking for is for God to choose my dances, for God to choose my teams, for God to not only compose the song, I as His instrument plays, but to direct each note and every pause so that my life sounds like and feels like the equivalent of the Hallelujah Chorus and not sometimes a beautiful melody, sometimes a wondrous harmony, sometimes a cacaphonous mess!

On January 26, 1930, Laubach wrote: "In defense of my opening my soul and laying it bare to the public gaze in this fashion, I may say that it seems to me that we really seldom do anybody much good excepting as we share the deepest experiences of our souls in this way. It is not the fashion to tell your inmost thoughts, but there are many wrong fashions, and concealment of the best in us is wrong. I disapprove of the usual practice of talking 'small talk' whenever we meet, and holding a veil over our souls. If we are so improverished that we have nothing to reveal but small talk then we need to struggle for more richness of soul. As for me I am convinced that this spiritual pilgrimage which I am making is infinitely worth while, the most important thing I know of to talk about. And talk I shall while there is anybody to listen. And I hunger -- O how I hunger! for others to tell me their soul adventures."

Here then is the first entry in the writing down of this (my) particular soul adventure.