Gentle Reader,
My mom tells me that when I was in the first grade, I would eat my lunch quickly and often be one of the first people out on the playground. She asked me why I didn’t wait for the other kids and if I felt lonely. I don’t remember this, but I told her, “No, I just sit on the swings and talk to Jesus.”
This is on my mind today because my spiritual director asked me what it looks like for me to play with Jesus. (If you don’t know what a spiritual director is or what they do, this is helpful read). I had no real answer in the moment. Lately, everything is work. There’s always an unending list of things that need to be done at home, at church, in my family as my mom’s cancer journey continues, etc. While I suspect that, as a task-oriented person, I am perhaps better able to cope with “everything is work” than some others are, it’s still draining. I love my family. I love my church people. I know that it’s good and right to take care of the home I’ve been blessed with. But still. Sometimes I just want to unplug. Not think. Not have the to do list running in the back of my mind constantly.
My husband and I got to go to Maui a couple of weeks ago. Part of me immediately wants to apologize for that. I know that not everyone gets to travel. I know that it’s a privilege. But I’ve been thinking lately about the absolute pointlessness of comparing your life to anyone else’s. Yes, I get to travel sometimes. Other people get to do or have things that I’ll never do or have. We’re all different, our stories are different, and that’s okay.
That was a tangent.
Anyway.
We spent five days on Maui. I love the woods, mountains, and prairies of home, but there is something truly healing about listening to the ocean waves crash against the shoreline. Something…unwinding about watching the sun dip into the watery horizon. Something fabulously entertaining about sea turtles. We had no agenda during those five days. Just let the hours take us where they would take us.
On the final morning, we went to Napili Bay Beach. Chris likes to snorkel, so he went out exploring. I’m not a strong enough swimmer for that, and I turn lobster red if I don’t return to shade periodically (think 20 minute intervals), so I stayed up on land for awhile. I’m quite happy to sit under an umbrella and read. I suddenly had an urge to just be in the water. Looking, back I honestly think it was the Holy Spirit inviting me into a moment of sheer rest and fun.
Because that’s exactly what it was. I let the waves bounce me around. I got saltwater in my eyes and nose. And enough sand in my swimsuit to build another beach. There was no goal. No point. Nothing to achieve or do. No list. Nobody to worry about. Just the sun and wind and the beauty of the northernmost point of Polynesia.
I was playing with Jesus.
Enjoying what God made.
Vacations don’t last forever. I am back in the cold of North Idaho. Back to the work and the lists. But I hold onto that moment in the ocean. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I wonder if there are other moments, pockets of play, scattered throughout the mundane and daily. I wonder if there are other times when the Holy Spirit beckons me to let go, to be silly, to rest my mind, and I wonder if I miss them because I’m so focused on what needs to be done. What I know for sure is that I don’t want to miss those moments anymore.
I wonder this, too: What if, just what if, Sabbath is more than a day? What if rest is deeper? What if it can be found and enjoyed every single day?
GRACE AND PEACE ALONG THE WAY,
MARIE
Image Courtesy of Megan Nixon