Ever feel overwhelmed? Work piling up, with no end in sight? Tasks backlogged, with you in a bottleneck?
Welcome to today’s world, where efficiency has replaced effectiveness. We’re doing it better, but still not getting the job done. The wheels turn faster, but the destination continues to be as distant as it was yesterday, if not more so.
Perhaps one reason we get caught up in the whirl of activities, responsibilities and to-do lists is that we derive a sense of self-importance from them. We may not be getting anything done, but we sure are busy! So we must be important folk. (Hence the third stanza about the “murky self.)
This dizzy speed afflicts all types, from executives to stay-at-home-moms to church workers. The latter may feel it even more, with the great sense of urgency of souls, eternal destinies hanging in the balance and the divine mission in the heart.
To keep from losing it, our refrain must always be “God’s gentle streams” of mercy. He slows us down, refreshes the soul, pumps up the mind, renews our tired joints for tomorrow’s battle.
So I suppose I must have been feeling the heat of the schedule when I wrote today’s Cloudburst poem.
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