This new schedule of early mornings has come to be a blessing to me on so many levels, and yet I feel like I am still rushing…
Then Sabbath comes.
Sabbath is our special Holy day in our home. Always has been. Although being the Mama, I still wake with the sun to feed the animals and make our special Sabbath Scones (and yes, they’ve received their own title). Showering and dressing myself and both children must fall in there somewhere along with making sure the food for today’s potluck is ready and we are out the door in time to worship with our faith family.
I want to rush, rush, rush.
But spoilage always happens when I rush.
My bare heels walk too heavy on naked floors and I’m knocking into children who have come all sleepy to say good morning. And it is, but I’m known to groan into its holiness. My heart rate picks up speed as I watch the clock and can’t it just pause a moment? Maybe if I got up even earlier? Husband, who has put in long hours this week just wants a moment to have morning conversation with these who are growing so fast and I want to furrow brows his direction for taking these minutes away from my rushing….
I have forgotten, within moments of my rising, that today is Sabbath. A day to be still and know that He is God! I have ruined it too many times and what will they remember when they awake on their own Sabbath morning down the road? Will they remember just a Mama with flailing hands and sharp words. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
I slow, look around, and take a deep breath. His mercy arises from the chaos and my chest untangles from the knot it’s wound. This is no Sabbath if there is no rest for the weary.
Today is Sabbath. I will breath in and come to a place of “strength every morning” (Isaiah 33:2). I will disrobe of this histrionic self and instead look for His pure grace to bathe this home this Sabbath morning.
In pure search,