Celebrating and thoughts on resting

 

Jamie, Jordan, and Sophie

It’s a big anniversary in thecottage tonight. Twelve years ago today Jordan, Jacob, and I along with all theFrisco Alters—Jamie, Mel, Maddie, and Eden—went to Safari Kennels outside McKinneyto look at labradoodle pups. The labradoodles, only six weeks and too young totake from their mom, were sleepy and a bit disappointing, but the kennel ownersaidMaddie and Sophie
she had one eight-week-old bordoodle (border collie/poodle) left. Sophiecame charging into the room, full of love and kisses and curiosity and mischiefand just plain joy in life. She was a wild puppy and still has her wildmoments, but she has brought all of us so much love and laughter. I’m so gladyou’re ours, sweet girl. After a close call this winter, she seems prettyfeisty for an “elderly” lady. Makes the two of us old ladies together.

On our way home
Everyone is back where theybelong. Jacob, home from two weeks at camp in Colorado, which he said wasawesome, and Jordan, home from several days in Key Largo at the home of theparents of one of her good friends. It’s good to have them home and be in ourroutine, although Christian and I (and the dogs) survived nicely. Christianwent over and above as a caretaker. I have mixed thoughts on caretaking butwill save them for another time, because once again this morning’s sermon is onmy mind.

Last week, Reverend Renee Hoketalked about the Sabbath and gave us one practice word for the week, “Delight.”We should delight in God’s presence in our lives, on the Sabbath and throughoutthe week. It involves, she said, detaching from the world around us, from theneed to take control. Her example? One was watching a hummng bird feed.

This week, the word was “Rest,”from the commandments and word that on the seventh day God rested. Rev. Hokepointed out that rest is not just sleeping. There are those moments during theday when we all need to unplug from what’s going on around us and in our lives.I am not good at unplugging, and that is sometimes a worry to me. My mind isalways restless. I don’t for instance, watch TV or listen to podcasts because Ineed the visual to keep my mind focused. I’ve been known to scroll throughemails while listening to something on the phone, and those “live chats” onlinewith their excruciating slowness are painful for me. A colleague once said tome, “Your motor is always running too fast.” I chastise myself for this,feeling it’s a character deficiency that I can’t, say, meditate for half anhour and keep my thoughts focused. Rev. Hoke talked about retreats she attendedwhere that was expected, and she stressed that it is hard work. I’m stillworking on it, still working on focused prayer.

But there is one way I can “rest.”When I was a kid, my family had a cabin, really rustic, on a high dune in Indiana,at the very foot of Lake Michigan. I liked nothing better than to watch a stormcome roaring down that lake, stirring up the lake into ferocious whitecaps.There was one spot, halfway up the dune, a small outcropping, where I would goand sit, my arm around the wild collie mix we had then. At sunset, if I lookedat just the right spot across the lake to the west, I could see the sun goingdown behind the buildings of Chicago, which looked like dots or at besttoothpicks. For most of my adult life, when I needed to unplug, that is where Iwent in my mind. Today, I may also go to the rocking chair at the edge of thewater by the tiny lake/large pond at Colin’s house. But going to those placesin my mind is the closest I come to unplugging.

Lately though I’ve beenthinking about another aspect to rest—and that’s my daily nap. I do my bestthinking, especially about planning what I’m writing, when I nap. I frequently liedown with a specific problem in my head, and when I wake, I have an idea of thepath forward. Sometimes it takes a few days, but it eventually works out. And Ifind that I write scenes in my head several times before I commit them to thecomputer—same with a lot of blogs.

Authors often talk about writing only as far ahead as you can seein the headlights. E, L. Doctorow is credited with saying, ““Writing is like driving atnight in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can makethe whole trip that way.” This weekend, the headlights gave out on me on thecurrent Irene story, and I was stymied, but tonight after resting on it morethan once, I think I see the road again. Yep, rest is not only curative butcreative.

 

How about you? Do you have aspecial safe spot where your mind can go, even if your body can’t follow? Doyou find rest creative or curative? Can you unplug?