I am typing on my laptop computer counting the minutes before Penny arrives in town. It’s been a roller-coaster week health-wise and as a result personally. In the midst of the fluctuations I actually got some things done. The good news is that Sabbath is here and I can set the busy-ness aside and reconnect with the most important areas of my life.
It’s not that my work draws me away from those areas, but it can definitely create so much to do that I forget to slow down and reflect on the big picture. Next week is already overflowing with items that need immediate attention—but they will have to wait.
Today is about being with God and with Penny. No preaching. No work-related commitments. No meetings to attend due to some role to be played. I will wake up with no demands on my time other than those that I would otherwise have as a regular member of the church. I will attend church within walking distance of my home—Thunderbird-Scottsdale SDA Church on the campus of Thunderbird Academy.
The Thunderbird Church is a hybrid of students and community coming together to worship. I will be interested to see how these two groups blend into one cohesive group. Then we will have the afternoon free to walk or read or watch Hope TV or whatever seems appropriate for a Sabbath afternoon. The point is that these days do not come around very often, although it seems that I will have most Sabbaths free in December.
It’s December! What happened to the eleven months of the year? I am not quite ready for another Christmas season. Contrary to my conference president who likes this time of the year I tend to fall on the other side of the spectrum. I do not like this time of year. I tolerate it. I make the best of it. But I do not gravitate towards all the trappings of the season. Somehow the simplicity of life is lost in the seasonal chaos. I like simple and quiet moments. I am quite happy enjoying moments of peaceful solitude. Quiet solitude is a rare commodity this time of year. I don’t know when I developed this less than joyous attitude toward the Christmas season, but I would be delighted to return to a rustic and austere time when the day meant more than multi-colored lights and artificial icicles hanging from cookie-cutter house eves. I would trade it all for a moment of contemplation standing at the edge of a wooden hay trough in Bethlehem on that very first and quite foreign Nativity scene two millennia ago.
Otherwise—Bah Humbug!
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