This one in particular feels like Christmas. There's a chill in the air for the first time since February. The frankincense in my candle burner fills the apartment with richness. I'm snuggled in an oatmeal sweater I bought at the Fremont three weeks ago during a Seattle cold spell. Seattle shores, Maine rugged coastline, New York City and farm towns. So much stimulation for my senses and heart, in my recent whirlwind Stateside visit. Now, back in this beautiful Holyland, after the bustle of Rosh Hashanah has just passed by like a boisterously wonderful parade on a rainy day. I'm filled with traces of nostalgia for everywhere and nowhere all at once. My senses awakened to old familiars long forgotten.
And this Shabbat, alone and very quiet, makes me want to instinctively grab for the phone, the laptop, any distraction from the silence. I was surrounded day and night with family and friends from the east to the west of America. And now, in that sudden wake, this new stillness feels very still. Solitary.
We were, indeed, built for company. Our Creator did not make us to be so quiet and hidden. In fact, He made us so that He would have a family. He is driven by relationship in everything He does. Why is it that we mortals strive so hard to make for ourselves large sandcastles to lock ourselves away from the world in, when our souls desperately long for love? We need each other. We live and breath for each other's company.
Shabbat is truly beautiful when shared with those you cherish and God at the center.
Thank you, Adonai, for a holy day of rest. May I learn deeper waters of Shabbat, and please let me be surrounded by those with whom I want to make memories forever.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment