i feel quiet.
those of you who know me well, or have spent more than three minutes in the same room as me, will know that this is not an often felt feeling. but tonight i have this desire to wrap myself in down and sit under the stars and rest in peace. i can almost imgine myself back at camp as a teenager, the heavens displaying the glory of God, lying on top of a rough picnic table, the smell of campfire and lake and the feeling of slightly burned skin, the taste of salt and vinegared french fries lingering on my lips. and crickets.
spring has sprung in Saskatoon, just when i was beginning to think it would never. there are streams of melted snow running down the driveways and roads, expertly engineered to tilt into the waiting sewers. there are also massive puddles, that freeze and thaw each night and day. i was standing in one such puddle, picking up my daughter from school, when i began to notice that EVERY child on the playground was in rubber boots. i didn't get the saskatoon spring footwear memo, and was holding the hand of my very wet son, in sneakers. it will take a while before the rhythms become my own.
one rhythm that is becoming louder and clearer to me is that of Sabbath. this week we experienced it. it was a day of breathing deeply; no lists, no "shoulds", no demands. we sunk ourselves deep into the day and joyfully explored it as it unfolded around us. we finished putting together our new barbeque. we held a newborn baby. we sat and listened to God. we played. we even shopped. it was lovely.
here's what i'm seeing worked for me last week: i vacuumed on Sunday and tidied the house so that i wouldn't feel like it was falling in on me on my sabbath. clean floors and a clear kitchen sink somehow give me the impression that my whole house is clean. i didn't make a to-do list. i didn't sleep in. i spent time with God. i spent time with friends. i played with my children. i prepared part of dinner the night before, and didn't bother with dirty dishes. i tried to be attentive to God's leading. i let go. i enjoyed myself.
i wonder if that's why i feel so quiet tonight, maybe my sabbath rest is lingering in my bones, calling me to sit and listen and reflect.
i've been reading snippets of works by Charles de Foucauld this week, and here's one for us tonight.
When one loves one longs to be for ever in converse with him one loves, or at least to be always in his sight. Prayer is nothing else. This is what prayer is: intimate intercourse with the Beloved. You look at Him; you tell Him of your love, you are happy at His feet, you tell Him you will live and die there.
je veux crier l'Evangile toute ma vie.
(i will shout the gospel all my life)
yes, Lord. even in this quiet.