where waves grow sweet

So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from his. Hebrews 4:9-10

A restful destination

Today was my designated sabbath, a day of rest from the constant plans and activities I’ve been scheduling lately. The picture in my head was a day in bed with a bible and a somber spirit. Um, no.

Instead, today’s rest looked like a sunny morning that begged me to walk in its warmth, practically dragging me down to the Newport Pier. To take off my shoes and touch the cold water with my bare toes. To laugh aloud at the chubby-thighed toddler chasing the seagull with impressive speed. To rescue my ‘neighbor’s’ chips – well, some of them – from said seagull. To bump into a friend and her boys for a joyful reunion. To watch and think and pray and hear. To walk and walk some more, arriving home four hours later, thankful for the goodness of God with all that I am.

Today’s rest looked like an afternoon that beckoned me to the bliss of tending to what’s been left undone. To scrub things and wash things and fold things. To feel the pleasure of open space that allows for accomplishing life and its demands.

Today’s rest looked like enjoyment in small things. To take in glimpses of a football game that went surprisingly well for the Jets. To eat a salad full of every good thing. And a cookie… or two. To play worship songs on the piano and, yes, even to sing. To write a friend. To listen to music. To laugh with my son.

Today’s rest continues on, satisfying the dry and weary parts. It will end in bed with my bible, but a somber spirit will not be found.