Sabbath – the notion of holy rest – is one fraught with avoidance.
The nearest I come are my pajama days – days when I literally do not get out of my pajamas.
The telephone goes unanswered.
The dishes unwashed.
The laundry unhung.
The news of the day unknown.
Pajama days in my house are un- kind of days – when nothing (or nothing much) gets ‘done’.
Sometimes there’s a book I’ve been wanting to read.
Sometimes not.
It’s a challenge to do nothing in a do something world.
For many, sabbaths include the social – spending time with family or friends.
But not for me – a genuine introvert of the Myers-Briggs kind – for me, sabbath is a no-people day or it’s not sabbath – except with my kids – when they were younger, we’d do pajama days together, exuberant in our indolence. The house was usually a total wreck after, but that was okay. And we had nothing to show for our time, but that was okay too. I miss those days sometimes.
Sabbath, you see, is a day when I require nothing of myself or anyone else but to be.
I confess my best sabbaths don’t have much deep thinking to them either – no pondering on the deeper meanings of life, the big questions are left for another day.
It’s hard sometimes to explain pajama day to others, like the day when a congregant invited me to dinner. I responded, sorry, I can’t – it’s pajama day, to which he responded that he didn’t mind if I came over in my pj’s, which begged more explanation than I had the energy to give at the time, so I simply said I’d have to take a rain check.
Today won’t be a pajama day, but the fall rains are here (perfect pajama days) and I’m hoping for one soon.
The nearest I come are my pajama days – days when I literally do not get out of my pajamas.
The telephone goes unanswered.
The dishes unwashed.
The laundry unhung.
The news of the day unknown.
Pajama days in my house are un- kind of days – when nothing (or nothing much) gets ‘done’.
Sometimes there’s a book I’ve been wanting to read.
Sometimes not.
It’s a challenge to do nothing in a do something world.
For many, sabbaths include the social – spending time with family or friends.
But not for me – a genuine introvert of the Myers-Briggs kind – for me, sabbath is a no-people day or it’s not sabbath – except with my kids – when they were younger, we’d do pajama days together, exuberant in our indolence. The house was usually a total wreck after, but that was okay. And we had nothing to show for our time, but that was okay too. I miss those days sometimes.
Sabbath, you see, is a day when I require nothing of myself or anyone else but to be.
I confess my best sabbaths don’t have much deep thinking to them either – no pondering on the deeper meanings of life, the big questions are left for another day.
It’s hard sometimes to explain pajama day to others, like the day when a congregant invited me to dinner. I responded, sorry, I can’t – it’s pajama day, to which he responded that he didn’t mind if I came over in my pj’s, which begged more explanation than I had the energy to give at the time, so I simply said I’d have to take a rain check.
Today won’t be a pajama day, but the fall rains are here (perfect pajama days) and I’m hoping for one soon.
And I thought I was the only one! Unfortunately, (or fortunately), I have more of those lately.
ReplyDeleteMay you have one soon!
Marilyn, no, you're definitely not the only one, girl! Looking forward to my next one :-)
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