Sabbatical

After weeks of lifting and carrying heavy boxes, odd weights of furniture and rubbish, with no perceivable ill effects, I bent over, empty-handed, last week, and felt a muscle in my back give way. Heat pads and rubbing creams and tender care are beginning to relieve the pain, but isn’t it interesting that my body only weakened after the pressure had lifted.

During the move, swamped by the emotional turmoil of Mom’s confusion and reluctance to be moved, I struggled to find space for quiet contemplation, for prayer, for my Bible. Sometimes I grabbed a bite of Scripture, but fast food is never as nourishing. Exhausted physically, my body demanded rest. Worn out spiritually, my spirit also craved rest.

This morning I lingered in the prayer window, and one of my readings was from Isaiah. The Lord doesn’t extinguish a flickering candle. I lingered longer, allowing the gentle breath of the Spirit to fan the flickering flame into life. As I lingered, Indy, the cat who rarely comes for a cuddle, climbed into my lap and allowed me to rub her as she purred contentedly. Even she needed to lean in and be loved.

A sabbatical is prescribed. It’s time to rest.