Lord do you not care that my sister is leaving me to do the serving all by myself.
Martha, you worry and fret about so many things, yet few are needed only one.
We are always wanting to do things, to tidy every untidy shelf.
We think too much of what we need to do, too little of the moon and sun and son.

Perhaps we should pause awhile.
And metaphorically sit at his feet.
I imagine ourselves on a tiring country walk and take a rest before climbing a style.
By doing so we take one step closer to his seat.

We work.
Maybe we should listen.
We should attentively lurk.
Not constantly hasten.

We fret that we are doing the serving all by ourselves.
It is not myself that matters but the one self.