I am abundantly clear about my lack of religion or belief in a higher deity. I am also equally clear in pointing out that I received religious instruction and training as a child. While I skipped around to various churches, I did get the general idea behind The Bible and religion. However, attending service to avoid housework became a silly cause. I wasn’t getting much from the service; I knew in my heart I wasn’t part of the community; and I also knew that I was a fraud. Everyone else believed, while I didn’t. Hard to deal with, especially as a child.
The irony, of course, is that I have the moral fortitude of a nun (far better than a pope, I can assure you). I have an almost pathological adherence to the Protestant Work Ethic. Once someone suggested that I lacked morality due to my lack of higher spirit. It hurt my feelings like you can’t believe, especially given that this person’s religion was restricted to Christmas and Easter, they lied to their insurance company for their own gain, AND they were actively defrauding the government. If that’s a good Christian, well…
Given all that, it should be no surprise that I observe the Sabbath with a zeal that again borders on pathological. I DO NOT like to make plans or do much of anything at all on Saturday. Truly, my day of rest begins at sundown on Friday. I don’t want to cook, I don’t want to clean, I don’t want to check papers, or do anything else.
As I’ve grown older, I actually find that this adherence works for me. I am calmer, clearer, and happier when I spend my Saturdays in pursuit of quiet enjoyments. Spending time with Keb watching movies, adding an extra exercise session, or visiting with friends rounds out my life, reminding me that people are our purpose.
Tomorrow my Sabbath will be over. I will make sure laundry is washed, papers are checked, maybe even run to school. The car will be gassed up and perhaps even cleaned. I’ll work to make sure I’m ready for the week.
For today, though, it was a simple pleasure to do… nothing.