I’m beginning to sense the rhythm and sway of a stone that on the surface shows no movement. I come without a sense of time, no clock ticking it away, but respond to the sound of the bells almost without awareness.
No one says, “Stand up.” No one says, “Take your seat.” Still, I move in time to the hollow notes without a Protestant hiccup. Though I couldn’t tell you later the order of the liturgical process, my spirit remembers the rhythm in its practice.
And this is good.
MAKING HEADROOM chronicles a year 
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I'm a writer. I'm also a claims adjuster, helping people and insurance companies make sense of loss. I work out of my home in the rural Midwest most days, and other days, out of yours. When I'm not crunching numbers or scaling small buildings, you can find me with a cup of gentle tea (or, on rough days, four shots of espresso) and a book on my sofa.
I'm an editor at Tweetspeak Poetry, a premier play-place for poets, word lovers, artists and photographers. We're home to a poetry daily (Every Day Poems) and an award-winning press (T. S. Poetry Press) which boasts an Oprah Magazine Best Summer Read. We're also the fine confectioners of WordCandy.me where you can share sweetness with someone special or the whole world.
I also write occasionally at www.LylaWillinghamLindquist.com, where you can also learn more about WordPress design services I offer.
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I just have to comment to say one thing. . I love “the Protestant hiccup”. Such imagery. You are such an amazing writer. Your words just wrap around my heart every time.
And I love what you are doing here. Week seventeen. That your spirit remembers the rhythm. Yes.
2012/05/18 at 7:25 AM
This reminds me of a story in Lauren Winners book, Mudhouse Sabbath, about how her then husband’s grandfather with dementia followed the liturgy, yet didn’t know her name. Love the rhythms of life in the liturgical calendar and in weekly worship and you say it so well here . . .as usual.
2012/05/18 at 8:20 AM
I read this before from week 17 but I read it differently here on its own. Different things stand out. Maybe it’s stronger on its own. The rhythm of a stone that on the surface shows no movement…the deep but not dominantly cognitive engagement with the rhythm of liturgical practice…rich & wonderful.
2012/05/19 at 3:38 AM
Betting my life and everything else on the resurrection. Nothing else makes sense.
2012/05/19 at 8:00 AM
“My soul sits unguarded in the stillness, the kind that doesn’t cloud my eyes over as I look for Him.”
Open…Unguarded…Vulnerable…Time standing still.
I need a place like this.
2012/05/19 at 8:02 AM
Glad to know you’re finding your rhythm. I’m still praying that song for you.
2012/05/19 at 9:19 AM
The rhythm of life reflects in our worship; the rhythm of worship infuses our life. It all nourishes, doesn’t it?
Thanks for this Still Saturday moment.
2012/05/19 at 11:15 AM
Those memories that live in our bodies always surprise me. The way a smell awakens something long buried, the way the hand moves the thread, the way the feet make the right steps. This is beautiful, Lyla. I so enjoy reading your making headroom posts.
2012/05/22 at 7:15 PM