And the thing with asking for more is, [more challenge. more passion. more Love. more strength. more time. more excitement. more responsibility]
it usually doesn't come how we were picturing it.
We were talking in our little apartment the other day about what it takes to actually DO something, to achieve it, to make drastic changes, and why it doesn't happen more often. Economically, something huge needs to change, and people sit in their cozy chairs and point and wave their hands and scratch their heads as to why their chair doesn't feel as comfortable as it used to [maybe because the TV and the surround sound and the table with the books and pictures and all the matching drapes have had to go away]. We want to get in shape but the grocery store is too far away, the drive to the gym just didn't make it in to the day's schedule. We want more excitement because the newer, better thing is already yesterday's news. We want to be loved and have love and be admired but we are closed and quiet and grumpy and we wonder why they won't love us better.And we forget this dynamic of getting off our asses and reaching out and making a move.
I think we forget that the kind of [love. passion. excitement. zest for life. insert-your-word-here] that really is thirst-quenching isn't the kind that is easy, that we can obtain by osmosis. There is something about eating the meal that was prepared by your own hands in the ground, the careful watching of the clouds, the watering, the shade, the sun, the raking and peeling back, the pruning, the dicing, cleansing, cooking, all of the prayer [Oh God don't let me burn this after all the work], that satisfies more than our stomach's hunger. We are the "ME. NOW. BETTER." generation, and we have forgotten that there is such beauty in what we gain when we have to work and sweat and cry and bleed for it..
And so when we ask, when we are on our knees begging or at work shaking our heads and marvelling that there MUST be more than this, may we recognize that it is not about holding open our hands and waiting for it to rain, but that there is a deeper invitation to actually participate in something deeper, something bigger than ourselves. That in asking to receive we are offering ourselves, we are actually acknowledging the rolling up of our sleeves, the reaching for the plow.