I’ve been thinking a lot about Sabbath this week.
And not just the book.
I do a few behind-the-scenes honey-do’s for Angie and Jessica to help with the Bloom Book Club, and the book we are going to be starting this next week is called Sabbath, by Wayne Muller.
I’m going to be honest. When they first told me the title of the book and that it’s about finding rest in our harried lives, I thought, “Well, this one isn’t going to be all that pressing in my non-harried, homebound life. But I’m sure it’ll be a good read.”
Nothing like low expectations. :)
I’m not going to talk about the book today... I’m planning on starting it and reading it along with everyone else. But it’s amazing, in the last week, how much I may actually really need this book has hit me squarely between the eyes.
This weekend was a hard one for me. [understatement] I find myself getting so frustrated with myself sometimes. I am frustrated that the grief takes over so hard, when I know Dad is in perfect joy and we are so grateful for having had him in our lives. I am frustrated that I’m so tired, that I’m still getting sick every day, that I’m not bouncing back like I think I should. I am ashamed that it has been three months since Dad left and I still haven’t finished my thank you cards. Heck, I’ve barely started them.
People, I’m even frustrated that I can’t finish my dog’s haircut.
It was Riley’s poor grooming that brought this to light for me. I was telling Shannon that I was pretty sure Animal Control was going to come rescue him if I didn’t get him prettified pretty soon – that I had barely taken a brush to the poor pup, let alone a scissors to his mane – since Dad died. And that’s when she gave me a little perspective.
She asked me when I had time between grieving Dad and trying to be there for my family and getting sick every day and dealing with the migraines and the pain and wishing I could be outside and getting infections and rashes and staving off pneumonia and reacting to every other thing with which I come in contact.
She reminded me that living and breathing and moving are my job. And they can be stressful. She reminded me that my life is incredibly slow, but it’s my harried mind that needs a break.
I need a Sabbath from me.
I can’t take a Sabbath from my life. From my pain. From my grief. From my circumstances. But in my mind and heart, I can try to learn how to give myself a break. A breather. A rest from my own frustrating expectations.
And that makes me wonder how many of you don’t need a change in schedule and pace as much as a change in your expectations of yourselves.
Just something to think about... if it fits you, you may want to join us as we start reading together this next week. :)
