It was a long weekend. And I don't mean the kind that drags on forever, the kind where you aren't sure if you can take the whining for one more minute. I mean the kind of weekend where there is rest and togetherness and hard work and more rest. A weekend of old fashioned fun and meals you didn't have to cook, of staying up too late and getting up too early.
2) A crisp fall day, a free Pumpkin Spice Latte, and a birthday afternoon completely off to do whatever I wanted. I did nothing but sit and sip and get absolutely nothing done. It was marvelous.
3) A long outdoor run, the first in months, on a newly discovered trail that winds for miles and miles. I returned home to find father and son working diligently in the yard, trimming trees and mowing
4) A visit to a new church, an entire family together, not me rustling up the kids on my own or explaining to strangers that yes, I am married, but no, my husband is on call again. And yes, he really does exist, I swear. In the service, the worship leader read works by Wendell Berry and my heart quickened with hope at how worship extends like water into cracked earth, filling the gaps and turning scorched soil soft again. I left softened, less parched.
5) A spontaneous trip to the farm, cultivated now by three generations of old friends. They didn't know we were coming, but it turned out not to matter. There were enough waffles for seconds, enough farm hats to pass around for the hayride, enough apples to share with the cows, enough branches to climb. But perhaps not enough time. (Caed wished repeatedly that we could live there.)
Sabbaths 2002, X
Teach me work that honors Thy work,
the true economies of goods and words,
to make my arts compatible
with the songs of the local birds.
Teach me patience beyond work
and, beyond patience, the blest
Sabbath of Thy unresting love
which lights all things and gives rest.
Celebrating this gift of rest, a weekend-long reprieve, with the Emily's Tuesdays Unwrapped.