Slowly tipping the copper ibrik so as not to disturb the settled grounds, I poured the dark sweet Turkish coffee into my demitasse. I always enjoy taking my coffee on my back porch. There I can sit and read in the early morning sun, surrounded by my potted plants of grapes, blueberries, and a lone planter of chamomile.
As I sat there this particular morning, I turned to the blueberry bush, my attention caught by the gentle drone of a bumblebee. One flower at a time, this little connoisseur made his way around the small spindly branches, sampling the small stashes of pollen in each delicate white cup. As I watched, movement caught the corner of my eye.
There in the same pot was a small sapling. It was a post oak smaller than my hand with all of seven leaves to make its crown. It was dancing there beneath the blueberry bush as though by magic. It danced of its own accord. There was no wind that would have started it swaying.
The bumblebee continued its course, completely unimpressed by this marvel. The sapling would dance for a while and then grow still, catching its breath before picking up again its excited choreography.
What a wonder that this little sapling could dance all on its own!
While watching this performance, I had grown still in my chair, not wanting to break the spell. As I sat there, I felt the slightest caress of a breeze against my arm. It was cool and so, so gentle. If I had been moving at all, I would not have recognized it.
Ah ha! There was the muse for my little prima dona’s dance. This gentle breeze, so easily missed was what my little sapling was responding to. How strange it was for me to see it swaying and not know why. I imagine the bumblebee ignored it because it didn’t understand.
How many people do we have the chance to meet each day that dance to a gentler breeze and we try not to see them? We try so desperately to ignore then. How many times have we been made uncomfortable by that one lone person who seems perfectly content with exactly where they are? They seem to bask in an unseen light and that light radiates from them.
We don’t know what gentle breeze is making their heart dance, and so we move quickly on. We avert our eyes. We try not to see someone enjoying what we know in our own hearts we are missing. But in that, we are just too busy moving about in our own lives. If we can simply stop for just a moment, become still, then we can feel that gentle breeze that moves them.
We must be still in order to recognize the most subtle breath of Holy Spirit. Others that dance to it when we are too busy to feel it ourselves look so out of place. But it’s there, always, for all of us to feel if we can but take a moment to be still and let that soft cool breath caress us.
And who knows! Maybe when we are finally still, we will not only feel that gentle breeze that causes someone else to dance, but maybe we will begin to dance to it as well.