Tag Archives: rest

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Sabbath Reflections: Week 8

It was a fun experiment, to be sure, but after two full months of posting everyday on this blog, the time has come to cool the jets, if only a little bit. To scale back. The 26th came and went with no original post, but it wasn’t because there wasn’t time – rather, I sat in front of the screen and could not think of anything to write. What I’ve discovered over these past two months is that while there is a sense of freedom that comes from writing every day, there are some afternoons or evenings when the words just aren’t there. It has nothing to do with a want for an inspirational prompt (the entire site is dedicated to an aspect of life I believe is new and captivating each day), nor with a paucity of time or a struggle with laziness. I’ve found that what happens when I attempt to post everyday – in addition to doing my own prose writing as well – is that the writing itself suffers.

I believe that this world is charged with mystery and wonder, what Hopkins called the “grandeur of God.” I believe that when we spend too much time maintaining lives that “keep it real” at all costs, we lose something very important. I believe people of this modern/postmodern world have misplaced an ability to be comfortable with the unexplained, the ambiguous, and the surreptitious. We have relegated such things to outlandish encounters in bad rom-coms and supernatural oddities in fantasy paperbacks. But the truth is, this world is infused with mystery and wonder because it has been created by a God who is at home in these things. To quote Hopkins again, “Christ plays in ten thousand places.”

That said, I must do justice to this mystery and not force what isn’t there. Or, at least, I should not give myself half-heartedly to daily blogging about something that continually warms my whole heart. When I sit down to chronicle the manner in which I have glimpsed this God at work and at play in our world, I want my words to be genuine, not coerced through obedience to some quotidian ritual.

So, if you are a reader, I hope you will understand my reasoning. I am certainly not hanging up the “Sorry, We’re Closed” sign on this blog. However, like the businesses here in Germany that observe a “Ruhetag,” that is, a day of rest, I, too, would like the freedom to sometimes let the words simmer a while longer. I will continue to post rather frequently, but I hope that what follows will not be contrived or strained in any way.

So, until the next post (sooner rather than later, I hope), may we breathe our days in deeply, and open our eyes to all that dances around us. May we spurn the cut-and-dried negativity of a world afraid of mystery, and remind ourselves to live as people who see more than the bare minimum of life. Of such is the kingdom of God…

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Sabbath Reflections: Week 6

Today felt like a true sabbath. It began with my wonderful wife tending to the baby (who woke up at seven AM) so that I could catch a few more z’s. Every weekday is her day to entertain the baby in that 7-9 AM period before the first nap; consequently, I am glad to watch Katy Jo on the weekend days so that she can sleep a bit longer. However, I think my bride knew how tired I was this morning after the two of us stayed up until almost midnight watching a rather long movie (Polanski’s The Ghost Writer – decent, but quite long-winded, story-wise). She tip-toed out of the room, blessing me with a little extra rest.

Later on, in between some odd jobs and taking turns watching our eight-month old scoot around (she’s mobile now, and apparently believes her feet are plenty secure for pulling up on anything, thus requiring constant supervision), I was able to spend some time writing, feeling my way through a story, stumbling along the path of sentences dimly lit by the flickering lantern of a concept. However, creating in this way often feels more like a release than a stress, a respite rather than work. I put reality on hold and spend time in another world where I am little more than a people-watcher, following my characters as they think and speak and interact with each other. I’m like a man in the park, reclining on a bench in the background and breathing in the energy of life that surrounds me. For me, writing a story is a great way to honor the sabbath. Once again, I have to acknowledge my wife – I’m glad I have someone who has been patient enough to learn how important this odd, seemingly unproductive work is to me, that, when given time, it becomes a labor that replenishes rather than drains.

Today, the rest simply continued. Since I’m still wearing my Aircast and receiving ultra-sound therapy on my injured foot, I cannot take part in my usual Sunday ritual of indoor soccer, something I usually look forward to all week and am often preoccupied with on Sunday. However, today, I can honestly say that I hardly gave Sunday-night soccer any thought at all. Instead, I rested on the floor of the living room, watching Katy Jo goo-goo, ga-ga, and da-da-da-da to every little object I held out to her, watching her strain to pull herself onto the couch to try to get to Mama, watching her waddle-crawl back and forth from me to the toys. Earlier, while Leigh and I shared a sandwich-and-soup lunch, and I was spoon-feeding our daughter applesauce, Leigh said that she really felt like we were a family and asked if I felt the same. “We are a family,” I said. This isn’t a simile – this just is.

I’m blessed beyond measure. I have a wonderful wife, a beautiful baby girl, and constant opportunities to enjoy life. I don’t mean to brag in this post – that’s not the point. What I mean is that sometimes we are spoon-fed glimpses of wonder, like occasional mouthfuls of applesauce. But every once in a while, God shakes the apple tree and the wonders rain down upon us. We are overwhelmed. These are good days indeed.

I try to remember the way these good, restful days make me feel whenever I find myself trudging through the bad ones. I think this is part of the reason for the sabbath in the first place – to rest up and grow strong for the next round. That might sound pessimistic, but only if you haven’t placed your trust in just how restful the good days can be.