Time is a strong current pulling me downstream in turbulent wind. When I arrive on the shore of the weekend, I can’t remember how I got there. I was singularly focused on keeping my head above water.
On Saturday, I stand in morning drizzle; shake the world off like a wet dog ready for supper. Circle the landscape to find my way back home. At sundown, my wet thoughts drip on the clothes line of drenched distraction, puddle in a hollow of loamy soil beneath.
Sunday, I awaken to slanted light, cerulean sky and sprouts poking through the hollow place. I can’t identify the flora or name it. But their lime green spindles widen my eyes to wonder.
By sundown, my favorite flowers stand sturdy beneath the empty clothesline of pins spinning wildly in the breeze. A sweet fragrance wafts from their vibrant budded stocks and lingers like fog in London through the rooms of my house.
On Monday, I stand on the sunny shore of calm water and empty boats. Holding an oar in one hand, a bouquet of hope tied with white satin ribbon in the other, I straddle the new week. It looks like fair weather. But then again, time is fickle, like a strong current pulling me downstream.
And Sabbath, it helps me to remember where I’m going when I lose my way. It’s an unexpected gift blooming in the hollow places.
But God, dear Lord, I only have eyes for you. Since I’ve run for dear life to you, take good care of me. Psalm 141:8
For your weekend reading:
Art for the Common Good: Scott Erickson by Laura Boggess – “Our truest songs—there are two of them,” he says. “And Jesus reveals both of them to us.”
Kingdom Come: On the Mind, the Wait, and the Delight by Amber Haines at (in)courage
The Scars We All Wear by Duane Scott – Warning: you may need tissues nearby.
Dear Poet, Writer, Author, Friend by Elizabeth Marshall
Wisdom and Sabbath Rest by Tim Keller – I like what he says about approaching Sabbath as an introvert or an extrovert in this one.
Welcome to the weekend friends!