"He realized that he'd been praying.
It wasn't the kneel-down-at-the-lap-of-God prayerfulness
that he remembered from his childhood,
but a rare harmony between his senses and his emotions."
The Only Café - Linden MacIntyre
Today I drove with Ruth, my wife of nearly 43 years, to Prince Edward County for a cross-country ski in Sandbanks Provincial Park. We wondered if it would be possible because last week's dump of snow was spoiled by yet another mild spell, only to be deceptively covered by a subsequent dusting. Treacherous for a couple of old-timers! We ventured out just the same, discovering that the farther we went the better it got. Ruth is still quite coltish while I'm more along the lines of a Clydesdale. As we made our way deeper into the woods we found a bench in a clearing where we sat, drank tea, and soaked in the strengthening sun. It was Winter, make no mistake, but Spring was the promise of the sunlight.
We did have 15 glorious minutes of near silence on the bench, saying very little, before three snow machines which probably shouldn't have been in the park roared past. We grumbled about the intrusive noise but we had to admit that they broke the crust of the snow on the trail in a way which made our progress easier.
Can one claim Sabbath time when enjoying the pleasures of retirement? Isn't it all? Sabbath-keeping has a lot to do with intention, it seems to me. The choice to enter into a prayerful way of being, filled with gratitude, open to the presence of the Creator, is sabbatical, wouldn't you agree?
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