Despite keeping to a regular Lenten posting schedule, I was still surprised to realise that Holy Week was almost upon us. With that dawning, came the usual regret that life wasn’t more quiet, less harried to allow me to sink deeper into this final quiet.
But I also knew that one thing at least was in my hands: to cut off from two online communities I was added to recently and to regain some measure of quiet. I have never liked being part of online communities where I cannot block notifications of posts. Something about those bell-icons, red bubbles, green bubbles, what-have-you – annoy me deeply. Yet, as it is not in my nature to simply ignore any form of messages or notifications, in order to have some peace, every single day – sometimes even several times in a day – I have to stop everything just to clear the ever-growing cache of messages.
Soon, I realised something else too: I was making a habit of scrolling through those hundreds of messages before deleting them, in the fear that there might just be something important to take note of, and in the process, I was being drawn into so many lives and endless rounds of conversations.
I’ve always been interested in people. If there’s a vineyard of need, I want to help if I can. And there have been times when the pain of people in these two communities have moved me to reach out and offer them my bread. However, it was also growing upon me that I was being drawn out too much and in danger of wading into imagined needs, pouring energy and help into what were actually hidden wastelands.
About a week or two back, I decided that today, my Thursday of illumination, would be the day when I would cut my ties to those two online communities which were connected to my professional life. Unfortunately, when the day arrived, I wasn’t as sure that I should do it.
But Someone was sure that I needed to cut off.
Driving along shadowy roads to work, the skies above were silver and lavender, embroidered with a sprinkling of diamond~stars. My heart ached. For the thousandth time, I wished I could just quit my job and just rest from the never ending cycle of hope and disappointment.
Just then, I caught sight of a familiar blue-caped emissary, perched on the side of the narrow road. The kingfishers have become a little rare in recent months. This was the first time ever I saw one sitting unexpectedly on the road. Hitting the brakes to avoid injuring it, I knew immediately that the only reason the little kingfisher was there in such an odd place was because God had meant it to be His sign to me, to tell me,
Quieten Down, Listen Up
The noise had to go. No matter what minute benefit I stood to lose, it was time to leave the communities. So, as rain~pearls curtained the fading hours after work, I deleted my ties and left for good.
All because a little blue king had perched by the side of the road to bring me God’s will where I had none.