The parable of the lunch box.
I remember with nostalgic affection the lunches that my mother used to pack me. There was the traditional sandwich, a piece of fruit, a treat and if practical, a little something left over from last night's dinner. It was simple enough but served this growing boy well.
It wasn’t glamorous, but then that wasn’t the point. It was supposed to get me through the arduous school day. It wasn’t sparse nor was it squishy.
This wholesome image came to me the other day when I had back-to-back things carefully programmed for the day. It would always be a near-run thing as I dashed like a mad priest from one thing to the next. And then, discourteously, the phone rang and …
In my hurly-burly, I reflected that I was not doing this right. My days would be a whole lot better if I just used the parable of the lunch box to plot my time more adroitly.
My lunch box was never squished with too much in it. Try to pack too much in and nothing comes out as it should. Out of shape, a bit mangled, maybe even a bit manky.
No, we need strategic gaps that allow everything to have the space it needs.
You would think I would have learnt by now, but apparently not! So I offer these ramblings to you, dear reader. We all lead busy, frenetic lives and few of us have learnt the ways of gentle rest and to pack our lunch box days in simplicity and with care.
I am grateful to my mother, not just for nurturing with physical sustenance but also for a pragmatic lesson that would bubble to the surface 58 years later.
Remember the parable of the lunch box.