Sabbath Space

This morning came too soon.  I'd worked until 9:00 last evening, woke up with a headache at 3:30 am, and couldn't lie back down until 4:30.  Dragging myself back to work was not my first choice, but I have other people counting on my presence at work, so I go.

Leaving my sweet hermitage in the woods, I realized one aspect of what this vocation-in-place means to me.  It is that this place, this modest home that is so filled with light and love, represents Sabbath rest.  Sabbath is normally thought of as a period of time: for Jews, from sundown Friday to a bit after sundown Saturday (my husband has a weekly email feed that tells him when the Sabbath begins and ends each week), and for Christians, it is the day known as Sunday, the day of Resurrection.

My work schedule is variable, though.  One evening each week, plus one Sunday a month (last month I worked two in a row - we're short-handed this semester), plus the evenings out for yoga class and for the Spiritual Life group at school... Sabbath time has been hard to come by lately.

But Sabbath space is always here.  It is in the deep sigh I experience every time I cross the threshold, the liminal space that separates (or joins) the inner world with the outer world.  It is in the sense of safety and wonder both that occurs as we witness the passing of bears and deer and moose through our backyard woods.  It is in the way the habit of busyness seems to relax its clutched fist and allow me to breathe differently -- more deeply, more reverently -- when I am here.

Sabbath may be time, but I am discovering that it is also space.  Shabbat shalom; a peaceful sabbath to you.