Zeal and enthusiasm

“I fairly sizzle with zeal and enthusiasm and spring forth with a mighty faith to do the things that ought to be done by me” –Charles Filmore, at age 94

I am finally starting to sizzle with zeal and enthusiasm.  All along, people have been asking me if I was excited.  My response was usually a lukewarm “yes…” or maybe I’d fake enthusiasm and tell them I was, but inside, I’ve been sort of hung up on this detail or that detail or thinking about the next thing that needed to be done.

But now, things, encumbrances, and necessary goodbyes have begun to fall away.  We are leaving Springfield, ready to launch.  There are a couple more details to take care of, but so little.  I feel light.  I feel ready to fly, both metaphorically and literally.

Martin and I went and walked the labyrinth today before leaving Springfield, the one in the photo above.  I don’t know about Martin, but for me this labyrinth has come to symbolize our journey in the past several months.  First of all, it was painted just about a week after the job went away.  And since it has been painted, we have visited regularly to walk and center up.  I have walked that labyrinth in tears, both of sorrow and of joy.  I have walked it solemnly, and skipped down the paths like a child.  It has come to be a touchstone for both of us.

We walk it often, and often it has some gift for me.  Sometimes it is a beautiful sunset.  Sometimes the haunting call of a bird.  Once it was a feather, once a dragonfly wing.  I always come away from the labyrinth feeling like I have been given a gift, and I was walking it today wondering what form the gift would take.

On the way into the labyrinth, I was feeling waves of zeal and enthusiasm, and mulling over the above quote.  I was feeling light and unencumbered and ready to fly.  And I was noticing the winged maple seeds that littered the path—what a metaphor for our journey.  Wings to fly and seeds for growth.  I thought that was the gift the labyrinth had to offer me, and I rejoiced in it.

It was on the way out that Martin and I came to adjoining points on our separate paths.  We faced each other and breathed together.  We often do this while walking the labyrinth.  Then he bent down and picked something up and handed it to me.

It was a little pebble, that had been a part of the pavement that the labyrinth is painted on.  It was painted blue, the blue of the labyrinth.  It was a little piece of the labyrinth, which I could hold in my hand and take with me to South Africa.

I know wherever I go I carry not only a piece of the labyrinth, but also the love and prayers of so many people.  Normally when one carries a lot, the burden weighs them down.  This that I carry is no burden, but lifts me up and gives me wings to fly.

I feel ready.  I am excited.  I am enthusiastic, and I sizzle with zeal and spring forth to do the things that ought to be done by me.


Three more days.

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