Livable Liturgies: Routines are Easy, Routines are Hard

“he got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done previously”

If it wasn’t for my spiritual director’s collar, she would have face planted in the gutter. Fortunately, the collar was attached to the leash – oh yeah, remember, my spiritual director is my dog.  This morning while on our routine walk the sidewalks were icy.

This morning would have been a reasonable morning to skip our walk. The morning light was dispersed by freezing fog looking as if dawn was stalled and needed a push. But the routine had to go on. That is one of the reasons I wanted a dog, to remind me of the routines that I need to be committed to whether I wanted to or not.

In some ways, routines are easy. The habitual rehearsal of that which took place the day before, the season before, the year before. I know what to do and where to go – and usually I know why.

Routines are Easy

Routines have a goal. They are headed somewhere. Routines are about routes, pathways, the beaten path. The beaten path where the grass lays down, the rocks smoothed by friction, where the way is clear. These routines, these pathways are easy. The resistance is not from the route, but whether or not to get started and to keep walking.

My morning routine: first, get some coffee, quietly. Second, sit in my comfy chair and read my morning devotions. Third get more coffee, maybe some oatmeal. Read and think. More coffee. Sit. Pray. More coffee. Get lunches packed and send my wife and son off to school. Every morning, more or less, this routine centers my day. I find often that when the routine is broken, I feel off center.

Routines are Hard

In the morning as I practice my routine walk, geese fly overhead. Nearly every morning. Don’t know where they’re headed, or where they came from. What did they do all through the night? And where?

But when the sun’s light is at the goose-alarm-clock angle, they stir and they fly over. Some land in alfalfa fields nearby, some in the river, or suburban ponds. Every day, like clockwork, set by the daily rhythms of the sun. It doesn’t seem to matter what the weather is like, but the geese are dedicated. Watching a goose flopping its big flipper-feet one step at a time to break the ice, swimming and nibbling on the grass below. That poor bird must have been at least a little bit chilly.

Sometimes routines are hard to stay with. Bright, shiny, new things can catch our attention and distract us. I am easily side-tracked. Daily tasks, picking up things, cleaning the kitchen, playing with the dog; reading emails and magazines and books and blogs; sometimes just wanting to nap or hit snooze on the alarm. Other times the challenge comes from opposition: budget woes and unemployment, depression and lethargy, doubt and unanswered questions.

Routines are hard. The word route comes from the Latin “rupta”, or to rupture. Sometimes sticking to routine is hard and requires breaking through something: ice, drowsiness, distractions, disappointments.

Routines are Easy and Routines are Hard

Liveable Liturgies

“‘’Last night, I went shopping for food for my spiritual director, who is my dog.’’ The Rev Matthew Fox (Orlando Sentinel, 11/5/88)”

Over the course of the last several months, I have noticed the routine behaviors I carry out. Many of them are daily, and most all of them are mundane and filled with potential for vacuous meaninglessness. So I need to wake up and seek the patterns God is tracing in the daily routines.

---

For several reasons, I have wanted a dog. Our blessed Neenah, pictured above, was in our family for fourteen years. She peacefully journeyed with us from our home in Pennsylvania, to Kansas, then to Idaho. She loved snuggling, chasing my fishing lures into the water, becoming a dripping mess at her water bowl, and loving people. She was an extrovert. And a protector, barking a fearlessly at shadowy silhouettes in the distance and scary looking doll hair underneath our daughter's blankets. She barked once at our mailman, Leroy, but then they became best friends. 

Clerical collar of Spiritual Director Neenah

Once when I heard Rev.Matthew Fox speak, I heard him refer to his spiritual director. All of us engaged in spiritual direction ministry should have a spiritual director with whom we meet regularly. But Rev Fox went on to explain that he takes his spiritual director for walks and is a dog. That made all the sense in the world to me. When Neenah and I walked, I was either lost in the thoughts of my own head, in quiet prayer, or talking to her. And when my mind drifted too far away, she would do something to bring me back to earth and attend to this world and to her. The twice daily walks were a dynamic dialectic between spiritual reflection on divine things and concerns and making sure she pooped in the right place (as well as other earthly concerns like fetch and scratching her belly.)

Clerical collar of Spiritual Director Mika

Now I have a new spiritual director, Mika. I am not sure what to expect. I assume she will have the same tendency to tie me to earthly matters. The dialectical pull between holy meditation and teaching her to poop outside; the pull between, "I need to type one more page", "No lick, no chew, no jump"; between those times when God feels distant and God sends a bundle of fur with a wagging tail and ball. 

Mika, at 12 weeks

The need for daily attentiveness, being awake and awakened, these are the things which make for life. And while most people are fine doing these things on their own, I guess I need a dog to help me with that.