“Mr. Kowalkowski, put your name on the disruptor’s board,” said my third grade teacher. Sheepishly and with great frustration, I walked to the black board and wrote my name in chalk. It meant I had to sit at my desk for five minutes before being excused for morning recess. While it wasn’t the end of the world, it began to seem like it when my name was on the disruptor’s board everyday for talking during class.
I was never short of words growing up. So much so that my chatty ways often kept me from spending much quality time in silence. I can’t say I was afraid of the silence but it never seemed that interesting. That is, until one day after my freshman year of college, when I was driving along Michigan’s M-22, on my way to work at Arcadia Bluffs Golf Club. I was looking for the perfect song to “pump me up” before work, when I realized no such song would ever come. After several days of my tired playlist, I decided to take a risk: turn off the stereo entirely. While making these daily commutes to and from work along Lake Michigan’s shoreline, I realized just how refreshing the silence was. I even found the silence dangerous because I had time on my hands that I didn’t seem to have before. What a dangerous drive this became for me who frequently shared my future plans with God without taking much interest in his counsel on the matter.
I say the drives were dangerous because they became a time to “stare,” as William Henry Davies described in his poem “Leisure.” A poor life this if, full of care, / we have no time to stand and stare. It was like time had been added to the 24-hour day. I would arrive at work feeling like someone would expect to feel after a short vacation. All because I had learned to stare.
This stare at creation inevitably turned to God. As I silently stared out over the steering wheel, day in and out, I learned that it was in the silence that God speaks. After some time, my chatty, third-grade self returned, only not with my classmate at the desk next to me, but with God. I happily took his counsel about my future—his Holy Mother’s, too, of course. By the end of that summer, I was beginning my studies for the priesthood. All because I took the time to stare.
As the days keep warming up for many of us, and with the Easter season still happily in swing, take time for leisure. For what a poor life this would be, if you had no time to stop and stare.
Leisure by William Henry Davies
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
✠
Photo by Logan T. Hansen (used with permission)
