Sabbaths

In June I emerged from a long, dark, difficult winter. Creativity had been present, yet somewhat forced. I was waiting, hoping, grieving, and underemployed. But in June, suddenly hope became sight as I suddenly found good work that covers the bottom line and frees me in so many ways.

Steady, gainful work gives new definition to my schedule and new meaning to rest. Sundays have been particularly enjoyable as I (usually) leave the computer off and spend the day with my boyfriend, first at church then with anyone else who crosses our path. Our Sundays are like Wendell Berry's Sabbaths, which poem I discovered on my friend Chelle's teaching blog.

Sabbaths (IV)

The woods and pastures are joyous
in their abundance now
in a season of warmth and much rain.
We walk amidst foliage, amidst
song. The sheep and cattle graze
like souls in bliss (except for flies)
and lie down satisfied. Who now
can believe in winter? In winter
who could have hoped for this?

by Wendell Berry from Given (2005)

Southern Alberta's woods and pastures would be even more "joyous in their abundance" if it would stop raining long enough for the crops to ripen and the farmers to harvest them! Please God, stop the rain.