The countdown has commenced.
I’m making the pilgrimage back to the place that inspires me toward Sabbath keeping. Twenty-two hours pushing pavement north into Canada. Where rest and play aren’t condiments, they’re the meal.
It’s not the moment when we pull away from our house, the overnight in a hotel a midst a bustling urban city or the bucket seat smorgasbord of salmon and egg salad sandwiches and gingersnaps that mark the beginning of vacation. For me, it’s the final descent over the suspension bridge and across the water, when I look down over the Thousand Islands and glimpse cottages nestled between two countries under tall pines; their boats leaving cloudy water messages.
Our cell phones turn off and we tuck American money under the seat to scavenge leftover loonies from last year’s trip. We exchange a small fee for entrance into the truest form of restfulness.
As you observe Sabbath, may you remember that the price is small when crossing the bridge from six ordinary work days into one day of bliss. That the view on the other side of rest is worth the time it takes to get there.
Happy Sabbath Friends!
With my phone turned off and limited access to the internet, my response to your comments will be slow. I’m thankful you stopped by. If you want to learn more about being a Sabbath keeper, click here and see how more than 100 are declaring, “I’m all in” by joining the Sabbath Society.