After Doug driving us 2 hours each way in the snow to look at yet another house this morning, I called a time out. He said he would take the girls about town and give everyone a break from what has become our everyday task - this exhaustive house search. January is really not an ideal time for real estate searches.
He promptly dropped me at the bookstore where I have spent the afternoon watching snowflakes the size of dimes fall on a wrought iron table outside. I have read Conde Nast Traveler, Southern Living, Victoria Tea Pleasures, Health, Architectural Digest and Aspen magazines. I have remembered that I want to savor The Sound and The Fury again, and that I would love to hold a bookclub in my home every month (if I ever have one again) in which no one has to read a book but simply comes and has dinner with me and brings a book they loved and shares it with the group. I find few will commit to a traditional book club any longer, but most everyone enjoys hearing about an inspiring read and will tell about one with equal enthusiasm. I dont know that I will ever hold such a gathering, but I remembered that I want to.
I remembered that I love gardens... and casement windows... and the varying colors of the sea. I remembered what the Dallas Botanical Gardens look like on Dougs birthday in March - an explosion of tulips wearing their Sunday best. I remembered that Doug keeps reaching to hold my hand in these days and I thought long about what he looked like reading that Julius Caesar madness by the sea when we were alone on holiday a handful of years ago.
I read a showcase article on a previous colleague of mine and clapped out loud at her color and design choices. I like women who take risks. I really like them.
I stopped everything and listened to David Carnes play In Christ Alone on the piano. Audible emotion.
I wrote to thank my mother for that smashing shade of red lipstick she just mailed me. You remember the one Carolyn Bessette Kennedy wore - Cranberry Veil by FACE Stockholm? What a kind, thoughtful and fantastically mood upgrading gift. My mother remembers that in the midst of all this stripped downness, there is a side to me that will always want to be polished. No excuse for ugly!
I have sipped an afternoons worth of earl grey, with and without cream and vanilla, and even had a cake pop.
Sabbath provides the margin to notice a woman near me and the loveliness of contrast in her camel chunky hand knit Irish wool sweater layered beneath an ink-black mink vest. Thick and thin making the most of one another, the creativity of man and of God complimenting one another. Beautiful.
Sabbath provides the margin to listen to hours of instrumental music and pause all physical movement, even breathing at times, to hear both the foreground and the background of the notes. And to observe the brushstrokes in an artists work.
Sabbath helps me see children, elderly, teens, women and men with the eyes of God. Each somehow a facet of His image.
Sabbath helps me remember how small I am, and yet how Seen and Loved.
Doug and I have no Peace about moving into any of the places we have seen. We both want so, so badly to be through this window of time. I asked him to share one word to describe how he feels right now and it was frustrated. I answered in return that mine was scared. We are trying too hard. But the world tells us we must get this taken care of, must provide a home for our family. We feel so much pressure and so little Peace.
That will not be solved by me taking Sabbath. What will happen though is that I will once again find Rest, Marvel, Praise and Worship. All of which I have sought way too little these past two months.
Sabbath time will remind me that there is a way to live in constant prayer. Not the needy kind Ive been living in, but rather the wide awake, observant, ready, waiting (and gratefully Expectant) kind. It will help me remember to Enjoy.
Have a great day. I surely am.