Inside my car today I waited in the drive-thru lane of McDonalds (this is Tom's day off) and in the sun and light of winter it came to me what being spiritual really is.
Well, at least, what it means to me.
Being spiritual isn't what I used to believe it was, you know, memorizing Bible passages to impress people or being on so many committees at church that everyone calls my name as I step past. Or putting 'witnessing' and church and visitations before my spouse and my family or carrying my Bible with me everywhere and underlining nearly all the verses or trying to speak and write in an ultra-spiritual style to keep up with the 'big kids'.
No, as I sat in the car today reaching for the paper bag of chicken sandwiches the guy handed me, I thought being spiritual is waiting patiently, with a real smile, in a line, whether it be at McDonalds or the supermarket. It's hurrying to my quiet time with God in the mornings because I can hardly wait to get there and making sure there's always peace between Tom and me.
It's having compassion for people who live differently than I do and obeying God, even that that means tossing away my big plans and taking on His 'smaller' plans, instead. Or staying silent when I'm just dying to speak, or doing my good deeds in secret when I'd rather do them upon a stage.
My definition of being spiritual is always changing, like the light of morning deepening to the light of afternoon before switching, yet again, to twilight. Subtle changes happen over time and only in looking backward can I see how much my own pathway has brightened, how far I have come, and how the Great Light changes absolutely everything as long as I stay out of the grey shadows.
That is, as long as I prefer His path of mystery, and not my safe, worn rut.
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