The Miracle of the Sabbath Rest
by Tom King
When I was a kid, Sabbath afternoon we'd disappear,
The grownups would warn us to be good.
It's not like we were going to work or throw a dance party.
Mostly we'd head for a favorite spot in the wood.
Out of sight of the adults, we'd find a creek or stream and build
A dam; moved earth like we had bulldozers in use
So much that had our parents demanded we work that hard
We'd have called the cops and charged our folks with child abuse.
Once we'd backed up a small pond's worth of water
Deep enough we'd wade in the cool water, but careful to obey,
The rule about how far the water could come up your shins before
You went from legal wading to swimming on the Sabbath day.
Give us a tree or mountain and we'd climb like Edmund Hillary
Up Everest, scampering rock to rock to reach the crest.
We'd chase wildlife, hike for miles, build cabins from dead branches,
And the work, fresh air and sunshine made us feel refreshed.
Now I am old. The cracking of my knees and trembling in my arteries
Have limited any woodland rambles and spontaneous mountain climbing.
That I might have once attempted as a way to rest on Sabbath,
When I was young. Now Sabbath afternoons I spend reclining.
Old folk like me find our Sabbath rest by actually resting.
I KNOW! It's so different from when we could sit on a rock a minute,
And be recharged, restored, renewed and once again,
Ready for some strenuous new challenge and we'd begin it.
The Sabbath was made for man not man for the Sabbath day,
To remember our Creator in the days of our youth it seems,
And for those of us who once remembered Him by running through the woods,
We lean back now and drift to sleep, and rest in youthful Sabbath dreams.
© 2022 by Tom King
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