Mud bathing in the Dead Sea in 1996 was a sticky and rather odd experience but I still found it fun; milk bathing might have been a mark of high rank for Cleopatra and others but if the milk were a bit 'off' then 'rank' could be more about the smell than being the queen of all she surveyed!
But dust bathing?
I was out walking on New Year's Day - yesterday - and let my mind wander as you do at this time of the year. No longer do I make resolutions; nowadays life's more about discerning what is mine to do among competing worthwhile options. So my mind was open and present to what was around me, rather than what had been or what might or might not come to pass.
And then I noticed three sparrows 'dustering' and dappling in the warm dry sand near the beach path. I don't think it was too anthropomorphic to say that they seemed to be enjoying themselves as they nestled in little sparrow-shaped hollows, flapped and flung dust over their wings, dipped beak and head into the tiny grains until they spilled between feathers and brought cleansing in the absence of water, and relief from irritants. All this vigorous activity was capped off by patient preening until they were ready for whatever the rest of the day had to offer.
I was reminded of a time in 2006 when, on a desperate walk, I'd noticed a dove preening. My husband was in hospital about to have quadruple heart bypass surgery - and the Spirit used the bird's meticulous and patient attention to its own needs to remind me that, in the midst of everyone doing their utmost for my beloved, it was important that I took the time to care for myself too.
In the 12 years between these two feathery reminders I've struggled to take good care of my self. So often the needs of others have taken precedence and I've pushed my own refreshment time to the bottom of the day's 'to do' list. But now as I age, I realise I cannot do what I've always done, particularly in terms of quality of pastoral or personal presence, or in accessing that balanced state of creativity when ideas bubble up and words flow and the smallest thing can mediate the Christ.
And so it's time to 'bathe in the dust'.
For me that means prioritising contemplative practice, anchoring the day in prayer, bidding the day goodnight with gratitude, being open to spiritual conversations [ and what conversation isn't fundamentally spiritual?], resisting trying to second guess what's best for those I love, and saying 'no' more often. Others may find my choices difficult, but the sparrow's reminder is the Blessed Trinity's gift to me at the start of 2019 .
I know myself well enough to accept that some days the gift will linger on the shelf unopened, that there may be times when it even gathers dust, but I pray that grace will enable me to cherish my God-given true self more as the year unfolds and, as a result, whatever I do will truly be done in the name of Jesus.
What is God's gift to you at the start of this new year?
not 7 or 17 anymore but 71
