Sleeping At Last – I’ll Keep You Safe
August has brought me home for the month: town of (not quite) 7,000, all fifty family members within a one-hour radius. My grandma e-mailed me a couple of weeks ago and said, “Why don’t you come home and let us all love on you.” How could I say no? This, too, is the favour and provision of my God. Home looks like long walls of cornfields tall against the roads, and it sounds like crickets and rain on the windowpane. Mom makes sure there is something for my lunch, like sweet potato and maple soup or cashew chicken pasta salad. I’ve traded my corkscrew and long-stemmed glasses for a drill and a nail gun, chatty wine connoisseurs for laid-back carpenters. On my eighth day here, I’m finding myself laughing more easily and often, eager to call the day “good” and quick to fall asleep – exhausted in the best way.
This is my breathing month, my time of fasting. I’m listening close to the drum of my heartbeat, the direction of my daydreams, the rhythm of my prayers. I want to catch the beat the next months of my life will take on, to ready my feet for their dance. Once again, I am back to the basics,the holy habits, eliminating all but the essential. It is time to take care of my home team, to take long walks, eat well, and let myself have space in order to have peace. This is the fifth summer I will spend mornings before work talking with Jesus on my parents’ back patio. I’ll be honest, I depend on this time more than I thought I did. My prayer is that by the end of this month my ears and heart and hands will be more open, even wide open for the next season. I’m well on my way.
(Image via here)