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Posts Tagged ‘#dayofrest’

It’s early … faint with infrequent songs from the birds.

The sun, though still hidden behind a structure, providing shadowy light.

Dampness … on the chairs, the table, the leaves of the plants and trees, from the early morning rains.

Early Sunday morning.

The Sabbath.

The day of rest.

Since the arrival of the Pandemic, Sundays have been different. Sabbath has been different.

Worship has, largely, not been experienced in church buildings, not with congregations, nor large worship bands, nor communion under one roof. The Sabbath has been Sunday mornings and Saturday afternoons and Tuesday evenings. The Sabbath has been spent on the sofa with a cuppa, a pouch or two and pajamas. It has been spent on hikes in the mountains, over a book on the patio, making a puzzle on the table, listening to a podcast, talking to a long lost friend. Worship has been through the work of the hands of the Creator, in nature, or as we get to know our neighbors, or as we take someone a meal, or send money to an agency who brings His love to others, or share an online worship service with others who would not darken the door of a church.

We are the church.

We carry His message wherever we go.

Worship flows from us … like a the first morning …

the birds. the light. the rains.

All worshipping together …

because they just can’t not worship,

because we just can’t not worship.

Sunday morning has broken,

and just like that first morning, His creation (us included) are worshipping Him.

This is life.

This is Sabbath rest.

Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day
-Eleanor Farjeon

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It was a most wonderful … wonder-filled way to awaken on a Sunday morning, a number of years back.

SNOW

The winter wonderland outside my windows brightened the sky, every tree touched by it’s blanket.

Though I still struggle referring to a foot of snow as a snowstorm, I have adapted fully to how so little snow can change the plans of a day (thought it is always more wonder-filled when that day is a school day).

Our plans for this Sabbath were unique to begin with.

A 4am hockey game lured me from my bed … at 6am (obviously I am not a true Canadian hockey fan).

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Hubby had this Sunday off, and our plans had been to attend the church our eldest attends.

But …

the snow …

it was so …

so …

alluring …altering.

As fully adjusted Easterners who have become Westerners, we thought it might be best to not leave the safety of our warm home, and warm pajamas.

It drew us to our cozy chairs, with steaming drinks, big quilts, and highlights of the game. A lazy, Sabbath … a day of rest.

Amen

“All day our eyes could find no resting place.
Over a flood of snow sight came back
Empty to the mind. The sun
In a shutter of clouds, light
Staggered down the fall of snow.
All circling surfaces of earth were white.
No shape or shadow moved the flight
Of winter birds. Snow held earth in silence.
We could pick no birdsong from the wind.”
Wendell Berry

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