Come & Rest
Updated: Aug 5, 2020
I’ve been jotting this list. Hoping someday it will be official; hanging on our bunkhouse wall. It’s my invitation for future guests, bidding them Come & Rest. And who knows. Maybe you will be among those who say, Yes…
COME & REST
· Watch the sunrise from an Adirondack rocker on our east-facing porch
· Enjoy the lakeview from our “old dock” swing
· Nap in a hammock; you pick the location
· Borrow a book from our loft-view library
· Sit at a campfire near the cluster of Aspens
· Help yourself to cup of coffee (always fresh-brewed; always strong)
· Take out a kayak when the lake is glass
· Catch crappies from the end of our dock
· Don’t miss the sunset from the west-facing lakeshore
· Cozy up by our fireplace (it’s massive—the biggest my husband could find)
· Walk paths through the woods, enjoying nature
· Listen to birdsong
· Watch for eagles, osprey and herons
· Sit at our piano and play a tune
Ironic, actually. My list of rest, when just now, we’re living exhausted.
This week it’s exterior stonework. Those five massive crates of builder’s outlet slate we purchased last winter. Our thirtieth anniversary, the day we found our bargain, and indeed, the gift keeps giving. And giving. Thirty years of love tested yesterday, briefly. But we are committed; in this together, to borrow a phrase.
Are we halfway? More? Hard to say. Our original timeline suggested September move-in. But seriously. I’m quite certain we could work around the clock and Labor Day would find us laboring, still. My husband is slightly more optimistic.
Kyle needs a new hip before Christmas. His determination to get-er-done overriding the constant pain, and I am willing to admit, I do not share his tenacious spirit. Nor do I relate to his ability to skip meals in an effort to make the most of the ever-shortening daylight hours. My willingness to work thrives on the reward of dinner breaks and sabbath rest.
Speaking of Sabbath. I finally convinced Kyle to join me, last Sunday. Surprising him with my purchase of Fleet Farm brand hammocks for two. And also, maybe, threatening mutiny. Honestly, it was God saying we’d need one day out of seven to take a breather, and at fifty-something I’m exhibit-A this plan is Genius.
And so, we did it. Found ourselves a perfect spot, nestled in trees, close to the water. Snuggled in for naps and reading. Kyle admitting, this is just what we needed. Which it was, and is. And I’ve been known to say this very thing on bios and mission-trip trivia: a good book and hammock is my favorite favorite. And so, an hour goes by, maybe more. I’m completely engrossed in a very good book (recommended by my physical therapist*) when I notice my companion has gone missing. Text: Where are you? His answer (eyeroll): Just up by the house, organizing stuff.
That said. A bit of organizing might actually be restful, especially considering this is not my husband’s normal habit. And we DID sabbath the rest of the day. Taking the boat out, catching some fish, toasting s’mores over a sunset fire. Glorious rest.
Monday afternoon I was back at it, grouting tile on walk-in showers. Remembering and savoring. Imagining a hammock in the trees, and daydreaming about Dear Mr. Knightly. Recharged and ready to give my best effort to another week of house-project labor. And looking forward to one day future, sharing this rest.
Which brings me full circle.
I’ve been jotting this list. Come & Rest. And I mean it. This God-vision for a house, in process, a home, near completion. Someday soon, God willing. Before the snow flies. Maybe sooner. Just in time for a blazing fire, and a strong cup of coffee. You and me. And maybe my husband. Together, we’ll rest.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Jesus—Matthew 11:28-31)
*Thank you, Maria, for your book recommendation. Katherine Reay’s Dear Mr. Knightley is absolutely delightful.