Sabbath Rest

August 28, 2014 6:00 am

          I was awake before 4 am this morning, the skies still dark, the woods still silent. Across the canyon I could hear log trucks come rumbling through the hills. Outside my own home I hear the rumble of a truck and look out to see an empty log truck seemingly lost  on our street looking for the way down the hill.

          I am filled with a sense of expectation this morning. I have five whole days off work which I can fill with anything I want, and can afford. A jaunt to Europe is off the table. A brief trip to Disney World is not on the agenda; but, there are so many more things I can do; camping, hiking, museums, mountains, ocean, rivers, National Parks, State parks, ferry boats, train rides, bike rides, shopping, picnics, barbecues, reading a good book, movies, grandchildren, sewing, painting and so it goes. Right now, the skies still dark, brief edges of dawn peeking through the gray clouds, I eat my pancakes and sausage, drink my coffee and spend time contemplating what to do.

         Earlier, I read my devotionals and spent time in my Bible. Finished the Gospel of Mark today and feel somewhat inadequate in that I cannot comprehend the crucifixion. It is beyond my ability to understand. This I know, that having Jesus as my Savior gives me a sense of hope in a world where there is so much chaos. I sense God’s presence in my life. So often in the field in which I work, I feel inadequate to face the misery of the client’s lives I work with. I might dread the drama of interoffice politics and long to flee to the hills to find comfort for my soul. But, and for me this is critical, when I pray and ask God for strength, courage and guidance, I am able to face the ‘giants’ in my life.

          So now, I wonder, does God have an opinion of how I’m supposed to fill these days? Earlier, I had a fleeting thought, awareness, an impression, “Let me plan your days.” Was this God speaking to me? I’m not sure. I don’t hear God speak, well, except for once, early in my life, when as a pregnant, young,  deserted wife I wandered the streets of Tacoma, Washington trying to find comfort for my wounded soul. My husband had gone to the store one day, taken all our money and never returned. 

            I was left alone in a small apartment in Tacoma, crying, desperate, I’d get up each day, start walking and end up down town. I’d buy a small meal at the Newberry’s lunch counter and keep walking. I can’t remember what I was thinking, walking around like that. I only remember that my heart was agonizingly broken and my mind numbed with the pain of rejection. One night, darkness shrouding the abandoned streets with gloom I was walking my walk when I heard an audible voice whisper my name, “Robin”. It was a soft gentle voice, but it was real and it cut through all my confusion and made me aware, I was in danger. It was dark, the streets were deserted and I was a young woman alone in a big city. I sort of came to myself, got on a bus and went home to my apartment. Was this God warning me? Keeping me from harm? Yes, I believe it was. I had praying parents and I believe sometimes, God breaks through the supernatural barriers and makes his presence known in a tangible way.

 However, on a daily basis, I don’t hear the voice of God. I wish I did, in many ways it would be easier to make decisions in life, but for the most part, that’s not how it works.      I pray, I read my Bible and I attempt to make the best decisions I can. God gives us the ability to choose.

So now….. what to do????  

Six hours later. Just fixed mini pancakes and sausage for two little grandsons. One is in the family room watching All Dogs Go To Heaven, the other in their “room” at gramma’s house watching the original Alice In Wonderland. Peaceful here, still overcast and I wash a few dishes and generally take it easy. I guess it’s ok if the first day of the five I kind of rest. Projects beckon all round my home; outside bushes needing trimming; inside, letters still to write. For a few whiles I will listen to the sounds of happy children’s movies and small boys playing cars. One of the joys of being a grandparent, you get to see how adorable the children are without the accompanying anguish of being their parent.

Outside the window white butterflies say goodbye to the few remaining roses, pink, red and orange turning their bright faces to the sky. As winter comes I will miss the flowers. Inside, I think part of me still wants to move to Florida, small condo some where, annual pass to Disney World, it seems like a lifestyle I could enjoy. But then, I would even more seldom see any of my family. Well, today anyway it appears I will have a day of no big plans, trips to beach, mountains parks, just enjoying some of the true joys of life. Sweet little voices saying, “Please cut my pancakes.”  “More syrup please.”  “I want more apples.” “Not that cup I want the yellow cup.” The true substance of life.

Hard for me to be quiet though, silence is an art I have not mastered.

To those of you enjoying your own quiet moments, enjoy. Time enough for the stress and hurry of life to push it’s way into the peace. God is good and He created the Sabbath rest, today will be a Sabbath.

Sabbath- 

         The word sabbath is from the Hebrew word SHABÀT, meaning 'cessation,' or 'time of rest.' 

Take care and be blessed, joy does come in the morning.

Letting Go................

          In my short life, (64 years), a small dot in the history of the existence of mankind; I have found that most of my life has involved very painful situations where I had, to let go. Often, I've envied people who seem to breeze through life; nothing seems to faze them. Disappointments? “Who cares?” “A better opportunity will come along.” Heartaches? “Tomorrow will be a better day.” Being a perennial optimist seems like an ideal position from which to face life’s challenges. Never matter that they are not the people I choose to go to when I’ve been wounded. They are also not the people I go to when I want to enlist people who will muster forces to tackle a cause that needs addressed. They not only don’t seem to feel as deeply about the heartaches of life, they are also not as deeply moved by the pain and suffering of others.

          And so, I accept that I’m one of those people who care and conversely, who grieves. And add into that, life is a serious of situations where each person is kind of a helpless spectator watching people and places change in ways they so seldom would have chosen. And so we suffer and rebirth ourselves in intellectual and spiritual processes where the option of “letting go,” is part of our growth and acknowledgment that acceptance of things is part and parcel of faith, and hope in God, who we hope will support our efforts to be strong and endure until the end.

          Part of me finds solace in reading excerpts of what other Christians in distant and not so distant past have to say about suffering and learning to let go. For me, it as is I have all these friends bound by common faith, struggles and experiences and from their thoughts, their growing faith have shared  insights and gained wisdom to help me in my time, now, an aging woman in an end times world.

          Most recently, I am facing the ensuring journey of letting go of career. And hard on the heels of that, I will be facing losing my home. This awareness is with me as I wake and as I sleep. I face it in pieces. Wrapping my mind around a goodbye to the substance career gives to my life. An economic bastion against which I rest, waiting for the next leg of the journey towards retirement and impoverishment and the descent towards a lessening of strength of mind and body.

          The goodbye to my home, the letting go is a process that is taking place over time; a view towards the mountains that I store against the long dark night; a breath of fresh air I relish tucking away, knowing many “retirement homes” do not have windows that open. I savor the moments of walking in my small yard, visiting the trees planted as young saplings now towering 30, 40, 50 feet above my head. “Goodbye trees,” I echo in my heart, “goodbye.”

          Last week, facing gridlock on the freeway in Seattle at dead-on five pm, I took the West Valley freeway and went to my home town Auburn to grab a bite to eat and wait out the bumper to bumper. The fields, (in my era, verdant green pastures) are now covered by light industry. The city streets, once neighborhoods are riddled with mismatched commercial enterprises; some prospering, some failing, a patchwork of a once small town now infested with “growth”.  I stopped by for a break at the City Park where as a young child I spent many happy hours, playing in the wade pool, playing on the swings, dreaming from the circular brick bandstand. The land was still there. A few trees removed as being too large after some sixty years. The wade pool? Paved over. The swings, gone, grass grown over the scars in the earth. I looked around. These were not the only changes. Here and there homeless men lay on the ground surrounded by their belongings, bags, and blankets and a pack or two. Some of them never moved; another watches me with eyes nervously assessing for risk.

          I leave, headed for food and a return to freeway. I past the last remains of my high school; outbuildings bulldozed; the last remaining building looking exactly as it did in the 60’s. I catch a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror and realize unlike that building I've aged and face the bulldozers of my own existence nearing closer as I enter the gateway to old age.

          And so, here I am on a Sunday afternoon, facing a short workweek, and straightening the parts of my life I can control; closets, laundry, an overgrown shrub or two. I am learning to let go…. Of children seeking their own destinies; of grandchildren recreating their own values; of careers where power is might and right and wrong become blurred by titles.

          I hang on to my quiet times where I anchor my soul in prayer and Biblical truth. There are many old hymns where Christ is called the anchor of the soul. In my life, He is an anchor that keeps me out of the slough of despair and keeps me ever hopeful that when all else fails; He is still there; with comfort, with encouragement; with Words of peace in the middle of my storm. He is there challenging me to ‘walk on water’ so to speak as I let go of every earthly prop; career, money, family, strength and health. My mother, at age 91 spoke to me of her fear facing death, “I’m scared,” she said. “I don’t know what it’s going to be like.” For weeks, when I visited she shared this fear. One visit to the nursing home where she stayed in the last few months of her life, she told me with an air of a confidant, “I’m ready to go. I’m not afraid anymore.”   A few weeks later, she passed to eternity in the night; waking to look on a world where there is no more crying, ever.

          I find comfort where I can; a daughter’s comfort; a grandchild’s smile; a few believing friends offering me encouragement on my journey; my Bible, (a daily comfort), cover ripped from use, pages curled from reading, passages underlined with ink written with a pen dipped in the inks-blood of experience. And above all else, is the comfort of my Lord.

 Jesus, hiking in the hills prior to Gethsemane, faced his own agonizing “letting go” experience. Being pure and sinless, God in man, He faced a cross where He bore the sins of the whole world. The cry from His heart, “Father why have you forsaken me?” rang throughout history and time severing the links between heaven, earth and hell. He knew what it was to face things that were beyond imaginably horrible. He knew, and He knows, and He cares.

          That divine love has enabled millions before me to face the letting go times of life with grace in the midst of fire; with peace in the midst of storms; so with my hand in His, my heart ever seeking His face I will face tomorrow.

         This old song, typifies my hope and my comfort. May you each find your own hope in being secure in His love.

          

                             Bill and Gloria Gaither