Maycember?

And Other Notes from Home . . .

In our family, May is a wonderful month of graduations, programs, games, meets, concerts, birthdays, and anniversaries, not to mention May Day, Mother’s Day, and Memorial Day.

So when I saw someone officially call it the “Month of Maycember,” noting that the only month that seems busier is December, I had to laugh.

There are so many fun, meaningful things to do and see this month, but by June 1, I’m ready for a nap. If not before.

Here are two lightly edited, short throw-back reflections from the blog Notes from Home, circa 2007.

Naptime

Most of us don’t like naptime when we are little, unless it starts with something like a book and a snuggle, or holds the promise of milk and cookies when we wake up.

By the time we’re toddlers, naps transition into “quiet time” - a device our moms use to persuade us to lie down for a bit while they enjoy some peace and quiet, or get some of their chores done without our help.

How things change!

As adults we often look around for opportunities to sneak in a little nap - maybe at our desks, or perhaps while our own children lie down for quiet time - just so we can catch up on our rest.

Being an adult can wear a person out in a way being a child doesn’t.

Oh, kids get tired too, after a hard day of exploring, asking questions trying to figure out why the world is the way it is, and undoing whatever it is you’ve just done.

It’s just that, for a kid, those things are energizing. They go til they drop, usually; for them, it’s all or nothing.

For us mature people, though, we have things figured out. We have to pace ourselves, because we have responsibilities, obligations, and duties. We don’t have much time for exploring, or asking questions, or undoing anything - we’re too busy accomplishing our long list of goals.

What if we put exploring, or asking questions, or just having fun on our list of goals? What if we counted them as worthy pursuits?

What if we took time to explore and enjoy the world around us - would we feel more rested? If we paid more attention to how the world works - watched the way birds fly or caterpillars crawl or flowers unfold - would we be refreshed?

Maybe if we took time to watch the sky fill with clouds or the way butterflies flutter from one flower to another, we’d not need a nap. Maybe we’d be so energized with life we wouldn’t feel so tired.

It’s worth a try . . .

Sabbath rest

Speaking of naps - why did we ever give up that idea of Sabbath rest?

For the past year we’ve tried, with very modest success, to practice a modified version of Sabbath rest. After church is over, on an ordinary Sunday, we have a quiet lunch and a quiet afternoon reading, napping, visiting. Afternoon shades into evening, and we have a light dinner, maybe watch a bit of television, listen to music, go for a walk, or read again, then to bed.

Ordinary Sundays, though, are sometimes hard to come by.

Part of the problem is that Sunday can be a good visiting day, and we like to visit. Maybe someone comes for dinner after church - and we enjoy that. Or someone is celebrating a holiday, a family event, or just wants to get together - we enjoy that, too.

When it comes to Sabbath rest, we are usually our own worst enemies.

So when those good things happen on a Sunday, we try to plan ahead and incorporate some “Sabbath rest” on a regular day. It’s not always easy, but it’s always good.

Without that quiet day, that slow start, we notice the rest of the week seems more tightly wound. Somehow it seems to go faster, feels more like a roller coaster.

What was God’s intent when He mandated the Sabbath?

We tend to think of it as a restriction, when perhaps really it’s a freedom.

Setting time aside one day out of seven for wonder, worship, rest - how can that be a bad thing?

Perhaps it is our own priorities that are out of whack. Perhaps by overscheduling ourselves, we wound our own selves.

Perhaps God asks us to rest on that one day because rest is exactly what we need most.

-- Holly Schurter

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Rhubarb must be the new zucchini. Neighbors are leaving stalks on our doorstep, and friends are dropping off “just enough for a cobbler.” The Drummer is not at all sad about this, as you might imagine.

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That little pup we brought home a few months ago has settled in nicely, although we are still working (fruitlessly, I’m afraid) on mannerly things like “No bark” and “Please don’t jump on me.” Other than that, she’s a good companion, and I am confident no intruder will get past her feisty greetings at the door. It’s fun to see her “leap like an hart” in the back yard.

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I’ve been re-reading Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gifts from the Sea, and enjoying it all over again. Her descriptions of shells she discovered on her beach walks, and her reflections on them, always make me long to be where I can walk in the surf. I love her description of being more focused, more single-minded in the chapter on moonshells. Lindbergh writes, ““Woman’s life today is tending more and more toward ... ‘Zerrissenheit’--torn to pieces-hood. She cannot live perpetually in ‘Zerrissenheit.’ She will be shattered into a thousand pieces.” So true.

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Thanks for stopping in to read these Notes from Home. Please stop back by this Friday for Fiction Friday, and find out how all the things that have been shaken up in Boomtown are shaking out . . .