“Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.” ---Matthew 11:19b
So often my instinctual wisdom flies in the face of everything I’ve learned about how we “ought” to live. Time, for example, is a concept beyond me. I always feel rushed and overwhelmed, unable to accomplish what I think is expected when I try to measure up, to live in the world at its own pace. My own instinct tells me to slow down and pay attention, to dwell in the light present in the everyday, in the mundane. I have to keep reminding myself. . .
There is enough time. There is enough time. There is time enough and time enough and time enough to move through this world slowly, to take it in, hold it in one’s open heart and let it rest and flutter there, to trace its markings with a fingertip, to wonder at its fragile bones, its feet pressing into your palms and the multi-faceted eyes that turn upon their stalks.
There is time for this. For your child reading, pressed against your side, finger following beneath the flowing words, her voice dropping baubles of bright sound into the air. Time enough for silence, for the rhythms of the winter stove, its old unbalanced fan pulsing heat into the chilly house, faithful in decrepitude. Time for the savoring of sheets, flannel in your hold as you tug and pull them smooth; for dishes lifted shining from the soapy water; for the plucking off of dead leaves from the houseplants stretching their slow tendrils on the windowsills; for the wiping away of dust; for the revealing of what lies beneath.
There is time enough, and wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.
“Let the excellence of your work be your protest,” William Lane, a college professor and mentor, told Michael Card.
Let the excellence of your life be your protest. Vindicate the wisdom you are given. Let the world unfurl its wings in your open hand. Open your eyes. Be still. See. Stand witness.