For the past 20-some years, I have experienced what can only be called a Cosmic Sabbath, twice a year. This is my way of explaining how I sometimes get sick during the busiest weeks of my working life. It often happens Holy Week.
It happened this past week, just after I finished reading the exquisitely written Sabbath in the Suburbs. Actually, I read it twice. The second reading was especially inspirational in my role as a wife and mother, not to mention a person who is supposed to be professionally spiritual.
This is what I learned from a week of coughing, gargling, napping, and sultry whispers during which I missed several Very Important Meetings, Phone Calls, and Emails. In hopes of surviving a week of the cruds, I channeled the amazing MAMD and others who reminded me that:
- I am not indispensable as much as I’d like to think I am.
- Floating Sabbaths (a Tuesday afternoon here, a Wednesday morning there) don’t work.
- Sabbath is not the same as “Family Time.”
- Doing things “Sabbathly” is such a good idea.
- Vick’s Vaporub is a miracle ointment.
At the risk of sounding Mourdockian, God has a way of slowing me down when I consciously or unconsciously act as if I’m All That. But what makes this different from believing that overworking is “something God intended,” I realize that this is my choice. A poor choice.
Why do we believe that not keeping the Sabbath is an okay commandment to ditch?