Sabbath

Back Porch Sabbath

Gentle Reader, slowing down to rest is not easy for me. I like to be busy, to juggle multiple projects and responsibilities. Busyness gives me a sense of purpose and accomplishment, and I’m embarrassed to say, even a sense of meaning. But the meaning of my life, myself, has to be more than my activities, more than my accomplishments, such as they are. Someday, I will no longer be able to do those things. For this reason, I am grateful for the Sabbath.

After the Mass, the back porch is the perfect place to enjoy the Sabbath. There, I can hear birdsong and feel the breeze on my skin. I can ponder the gift of my life, the gift of self-awareness.

My pondering won’t result in any answers. Instead, it will remind me that there is more to life than my daily activities. It will renew my appreciation for Mystery.

First Bloom

My roses were still in bud when I went out of town last week. Coming home, I found them in full flower. They will continue to bloom all summer, but they will never be as lush and extravagant as they are today.

There’s something almost magical about the garden in spring. I want to cling to the beauty, but I know it will eventually fade into the heat of summer.

I refuse to grieve. I think heaven will be like this, only it won’t pass away.