sunsets, the Sabbath & a speeding ticket

a getaway | september 2014IMG_1264

Just this morning, I remember begging Jesus to press pause and give me a Sabbath today. Maybe because this month’s been an absolutely wild rush or because my legs are tired of running or maybe because I’m just craving simplicity. And who says Sabbath days are old school? Even the Maker of time and space and dandelions had to take a break from all His work. So I, the queen of balancing acts and “I’ve so got this” and eating breakfast to-go, figured maybe He needs more of me today. Maybe He needs all of me today.

No no, I had to slow my pace just to get it. All of me just really really really needs Him today.

Just like He says, we are people-shaped clay being carried to completion, despite our inevitable tendency to flinch and head wayward and scuff up our edges. Yet the Potter is always sculpting, shaping, polishing, perfecting, fixing dents and cracks and etching His name in us just right. So maybe a Sabbath means sitting still while He’s at work. A day where the Maker and the masterpiece sit side by side and all quiet, basking in the Glory of what the tag-team of creativity and eternity can muster up. A day where I choose grown-ups and wakesurfing while the sun goes down and sweet waves and early bedtimes.

come to Me, you who labor.
come to Me, you weary and burdened.
come, you’re invited–
into this rest you’ve never known.
trade with Me, 
for My yoke is easy,
My burden is light.
| Matthew 11:28-29 |

I just had to get away from my just-right lakehouse day trip, high on freedom and windblown hair and spontaneity, because the most Glorious sunset was eager to be chased. As I headed homeward, the Creator swapped color for color on a moving canvas in my rearview mirror. Fields and fences blurred together in my peripherals as His sunset design lay perfect right where He wanted it. And so what if this Jesus-and-Layne road trip was moving too fast for some county’s liking—not even a speeding ticket could shake up my Sunday. Because Jesus is better. Even my Mom’s guacamole is better, wakeboarding’s better, sunsets are a heck of a lot better. And yes, those cop car lights drowned out my sunset—but I got to drive on home looking up at the stars.

my J, thanks for sweet exchanges, for faithfully pressing pause, for grown-ups that listen to my dreams, and for letting sunshine into pieces of my heart since I can remember.

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