Sorting lentils and words and….

A Woman Cleaning Lentils

A lentil, a lentil, a lentil, a stone.
A lentil, a lentil, a lentil, a stone.
A green one, a black one, a green one, a black. A stone.
A lentil, a lentil, a stone, a lentil, a lentil, a word.
Suddenly a word. A lentil.
A lentil, a word, a word next to another word. A sentence.
A word, a word, a word, a nonsense speech.
Then an old song.
Then an old dream.
A life, another life, a hard life. A lentil. A life.
An easy life. A hard life, Why easy? Why hard?
Lives next to each other. A life. A word. A lentil.
A green one, a black one, a green one, a black one, pain.
A green song, a green lentil, a black one, a stone.
A lentil, a stone, a stone, a lentil.  

— Zahrad

I found this provocative poem on this blog post, and have been keeping it in the back of my mind until today when I read a comment by Celeste on this blog post, about her own need to “re-sort.”

The household and garden chores that I pile up around me every day, the practical love for husband and children and grandchildren, the worship of God in His Church such as I enjoyed this morning, the good books and blogs I read, the writing I am compelled to do — they all seem to be represented and connected for me in the images of these lines.

Here I am, once again in the middle of trying-not-to-be-frantic trip preparations, but God gave me an extra hour this afternoon, which meant I could eat some leftover frittata and read a comment on a blog, and look what happened! More sorting of thoughts and realities, with the unspoken urge to order my affections aright and find His peace and strength for the next few hours and days.

Suddenly a word. 

A life.

7 thoughts on “Sorting lentils and words and….

  1. I like this poem too, but I don't really sort lentils. I think the lentil sacking factory does a good job. Perhaps if we HAD to sort lentils today, we'd get more thinking and praying done.

    Jody

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  2. I saw the title before I read the post, and it brought to mind Cinderella — in some traditions the stepmother dumped out a big bowl of lentils and mixed it together with peas. She had to pick them all up and separate them, but the friendly birds did it for her. A lentil, a lentil, a pea. . .

    A word, so many words. Good words, and sinful ones. A fall, a struggle to the feet, an effort to walk again. A striving to love. A life.

    How is your garden faring?

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  3. One thing I love about the quieter household chores (washing dishes especially, for me) is the free time they provide for my mind to wander and ponder and sort things out. That's what I thought about, reading this, how often busy hands give you time to sort out what's in your heart.

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