One Thing is Necessary

I do not purposefully make my life simple or easy; quite the opposite in fact. There have been times where I was simultaneously working three jobs, taking classes full time for my Masters, rehearsing for two dance performances and writing a thesis, all while three months pregnant (and hence, sick as a dog). I worked two part time jobs through much of my undergraduate career while going to school on average 18-21 credit hours per semester. I would be in the dance building from 8:00 in the morning until 9:00 at night. I went to eight-hour-day Pilates training courses, went to class, and then went to teach ballet. But I was never really stressed. (Neurotic, at times, yes.) For as much as all of this mattered; it didn’t really. I was safe. I am secure in words, and movement, and scholarship. I am at home in research. I could die a happy woman in the secure arms of the university.

There was a time shortly after starting college when I dramatically informed my mother of ever disaster befalling me. By nature, I am not dramatic. I had a dance professor not-so-kindly suggest I take an acting class; because, and I quote, “You’re terrible. I need you to be a spitting cobra, and you’re boring.” So believe you me, when I say I was being dramatic; I really thought the world might shatter around me.

My mother is very wise. This is why if I don’t see her several times a week, I call her every day. It does a soul a good turn to just be in the presence of such wisdom. So as I spat, cobra style, every vicious throe of life toward my mother, she simply smiled softly. It was not a mocking smile, not an empathetic smile; it was a smile of gentle correction. “Abigail, Abigail,” she whispered. “You are worried and bothered about so many things; but only one thing is necessary.”

My father is a Dallas man (as in Dallas Theological Seminary, not the Dallas Cowboys). When they were young, he taught my mother how to study the Bible. They shared wisdom, flowering from the Word of God. Growing up in a home with two such theologians, I instantly knew which Bible story my mother was referring to, and had heard it taught, analyzed, and sermonized nine ways from Sunday. Martha, so busy for the Lord, forgot to be still for Him.

Now, I am away from the university. I am in the world, and desperately trying to not be of the world. I do not have the security of theory, journals, and books. I miss the solace of free studio space, required attendance, and final grades. I reminisce for the time when I was not so responsible for my fate. Now, grades are replaced by bills and finances. Required attendance flounders in not enough time to be the mother, wife, employee, artist, and Christian I want to be. The security of theory has transformed into the insecurity of planning a life without being able to see the miles ahead. As I live, I know far less.

At times I allow these things to eat at the calm of my heart. At times I feel very dramatic because life demands it. Yet, when the panic rises, when my sense of control slips away, I can still hear my mother’s voice, “Only one thing is necessary.” I worship my Savior because this is all that is required. A heart of worship. I worship from a place of extreme blessing, having so many good things to concern myself with. And I pray that I will continue to worship from a place deep among the ashes, should my King ever send me there. Because, ultimately even among the ashes we are extremely blessed. A life of worship. This is all He requires and all I want to have.