My Sabbath

I got to rest today, so now I suppose it’s time to WORK on my blog. This morning was nice. The sun was having a little more success in its month-long battle with the clouds. I actually saw the yellow thing for 15 to 20 minute segments at a time.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, I skipped church this morning. I headed off to a St. Paul suburb to work on a lake home. I was by myself. The huge house was quiet. And I was at peace. For the first time in weeks, I did not feel rushed. I would work only as long as I felt like working. And I would work at only that place. And I would listen only to what I wanted to hear on the radio. And it was fun. I recaptured the joy of holding a trowel in my hand. It was a temporary respite from the pressures of deadlines. And I wasn’t even pushing myself.

I was also a successful DJ this morning as I switched my iPod to some Bob Dylan tunes, followed by a little bit of the Beatles, and then to a lecture on Quantum physics (for non-science people). Sensing that my brain was overheating, I had the inkling that the rebroadcast of Prairie Home Companion might be on soon. So I turned off the iPod and switched to FM. Before PHC, they were airing “Speaking of Faith” on MPR, a show I like to catch occasionally. The discussion was on contemplative prayer as they interviewed an Emery University professor who has written on the Dessert Fathers (and Mothers). It tied in well with my tranquil setting on the small suburban lake. I was truly thankful to be where I was and to be doing what I was doing.

And then to round out the morning, I had my energy level raised as I laughed along with PHC and got to imagine that other lake, maybe not so long be gone. I was about to call it quits when I received a surprise phone call from an out-of-state area code. Who could it be? I didn’t recognize the number. It was Brian.

Brian and I go way back to our days at Trinity. We worked together with the youth at the church. He was first a fellow volunteer and then was hired on as youth pastor. A few churches later (and now living in Florida), he is still hard at it working with teen-agers, even now as his own kids are approaching that age. He made a surprise visit to the church we attend and didn’t find me there. He called to hassle me about not being in church, but I was able to receive his absolution.

But I then had to leave the lake and go back to the real world, rushing off to open houses for graduates and small group meetings. The disclaimer I end with is in no way an encouragement to skip church on Sunday mornings, but God did find me this morning where I was at. And He was good.