Snowmaggedon came at the close of our winter break, unexpectedly extending our vacation by three days. Three is the number of perfection and as I sit snuggled on the couch pondering tomorrow’s return, I find myself grateful for the reframe that these days have given.
Perhaps I should come clean and admit that I did nothing of import for three days. I didn’t. I enjoyed a Downton Abbey marathon (every episode of three seasons before indulging in this season’s opener). I crocheted two hats, two scarves, and a bunch of squares for a maybe-afghan. I stared at the snow and considered the contrasting colors visible from the warmth of my front window. Today I spent the better part of the day doing lesson plans, organizing a new online gradebook, and researching for a new unit; but before this brief burst of energy I spent three full days staring at the snow while my mind and heart cleared.
In my own defense I would point out that the winter break began on December 20th, so we jumped from school routines into holiday ones. Cleaning, shopping, cooking, wrapping, and baking quickly filled the space in my heart and mind that school had occupied. Our adult children filled the house with laughter and I paused to notice the gratitude I felt but as soon as the wrapping paper was cleaned up, I was back to the work of planning for the next semester.
By Friday afternoon, my lessons were complete, computer links checked, and copies made. After a Saturday commitment, I had planned to have a day of sabbath on Sunday before returning to school on Monday morning.
But on Sunday morning the snow began and one day turned into two and then three. For reasons that are unclear (and irrelevant I suppose) I spent each of these luscious days in sabbath and on the couch. At the end of the third day, I was out of red yarn and ready to return to the world. Which came first is uncertain.
As I think about returning to my classroom tomorrow, and spending the day with children who are not in the rhythm of being together, I realize that the peace that attends me is different than that I felt last Saturday. Although anxiety sits in my gut, my mind is no longer racing. My heart feels the tension but holds it gently, now is the moment.
Sabbath is a spiritual practice that is rooted in an understanding that in order to be at one with the source of life we need to let go of our busyness, relinquish our lists, and allow our minds to reset. I don’t do this very well. And the more I try, the more elusive such a state of openness becomes. Given the number of hours that most of us spend in front of computer screens, I’m guessing that the struggle is a common one. To have stumbled into this sabbath was incredible gift.
Three days is enough. After three days fish and company stink, and likewise even Downton Abbey looses its charm. It was after three days that Jesus and Lazarus and Moses all made their re-entry and so must I. Yet just as they were changed by their time away, I come back to the world with a peace that is new.
And it is very good.