Tightness Melted

I didn't realize how tense I was inside. I'm not "that" type of person--uptight, anxious, worried (or so I think). But something similar happens in me, and I'm beginning to notice.

Take yesterday. My schedule changed when I agreed to take my daughter to a medical appointment. Not a big deal, but I wasn't as productive as I would have liked, and I missed some church activities. Everything seemed "normal" until I was leaving. I opened the door to the garage and saw this:

IT MELTED ME! Instead of being met by chaos and things that need attention, I had an intentional scene. Granted, it isn't much by way of design and decor, but it MINISTERED peace to me. Tension I didn't know I had melted away. That's how I identified the tightness that wrapped itself around my thoughts and breath. I noticed when it left. 

I looked up "minister" in the online Webster's 1913 dictionary:

Min"is*ter, v. i.

1. To act as a servant, attendant, or agent; to attend and serve; to perform service in any office, sacred or secular. Matt. xx. 28.

2. To supply or to things needful; esp., to supply consolation or remedies. Matt. xxv. 44.

This little grouping of mostly discarded items is so small and imperfect that I want to apologize for it to the design world, yet I cannot deny the powerful moment I received yesterday! It was a supply of something needful, a consolation, a remedy to an unknowingly rigid, stressed mind from humble design!

It also ties into a phrase that is resurfacing in my thoughts—that an object must serve me, not me serve it. I'll have to write the Amish telephone story and link it here. That's where it all started long ago in the '90s.

Even this morning, as I contemplated the amount of loose tea to use when making a full bodum pot (since I cannot have caffeine the day before my stress test), I hovered a wooden tablespoon with a second helping and thought, It is here to serve you. Use what you desire. 

I always desire a strong flavor. The second tablespoon went in.

Agh! This flies in the face of historical me! Conservation is my usual ruling impetus. Make it last. Get your money's worth. Function is probably right behind that. Everything serves a purpose. No fluff. I've cut off so much desire over the years that it's been hard to identify now. But there is a Guide who helps me. That prompt used in a micro setting like tea could be answered. To be honest, I did falter for a moment. I may have even limited my desire by conservation and function, but at least I stretched it a little bit! I suppose it's like a muscle that hasn't been used for a long time. Flacid. Unusable. But small those small stimuli and exercise can probably prod it back to life again.

When it comes to function, what if the purpose of an object or a setting is to minister? This ministered peace. Certain things I own minister ease, like the massive food processor I received at Christmas versus the mortar and pestle that I attempted to mangle Thai ginger with last week. Yes, I intended to simplify and live like I do in Guatemala—All I need is a broom, towel, and a bucket!—but here I am already cluttered with ease.

So the other day, when I daydreamed about that pink rug and making a garage entrance that pleased me (kind of like how I feel when I see my pink front door entry), it was also not the usual me. A fluffy pink carpet in the garage? That didn't even qualify as logic. But I SAW IT in my imagination. And I'm learning to take action on those things.

[Side note: I just crossed my arms and was considering how far to take this when I heard, "Take your pleasure. Like all things, it is here to serve you." Oh yeah!]

I am in the midst of a rabbit trail stemming from the word minister that led to sacerdotal duties. At some definition/etymology/root/origin note, I thought I read "sacerdotal life" in a short, descriptive list. It wasn't actually there, but again, I SAW IT, and now I'm acting on it. It carries the feeling that this is a part of the "gentle warrior" puzzle (and I should link it to that blog, I suppose). Wait! I know. I'll finish my rabbit trail and post it on that blog, then link back to it here. It strikes me as a lifestyle-worthy mindset.

I just had the luxurious thought I can write ANYTHING! LOL. It's like a kid with a crayon and the paper is not just one standard sheet, but a whole roll.

Seriously. I edit myself so constantly that while I was elaborating a few paragraphs up, the balance my mind was contemplating in words and grammar and a myriad of things too numerous to list, it felt like a blanket had been flipped up and "snapped" to clear it. 

This blog is here to serve me.
I can write anything I want.
Even grammar can go by the wayside.
Punctuation police don't exist.
Take your pleasure.
Write what you desire.