Shabbat Struggle

I'm a non-Jew trying to institute the practice Shabbat in my life, and it's hard.  Not because I can sing the typical song of modern woe about just being so busy all the time (though I am), but because for me work is comforting and life-giving.  And I have come to understand that Shabbat is about doing life-giving things.

Writing grocery lists or plotting out the next month's budget.  Cleaning the kitchen (sometimes) and sorting old clothes to go to Goodwill.  These things bring me satisfaction. And I'm not a codependent person; it's hard to explain, but I just really get a kick out of getting stuff done.

When I contemplate what a meaningful Shabbat is  - a 24 hour period of intentional stillness -  it's hard to parse work from rest.  To pare down to a minimal pattern of rest is sometimes like entering a recently moved-out house.  It's dirty and hollow, just barely echoing of what used to be so cheerful and full.  It reminds me of the First Testament episodes when particular characters would go into the wilderness (aka wild places, lonely places, places of non-cultivated land).  They would often go without food in their questing, but the stories record most of them finding something significant out there.  There is this extreme dichotomy of starvation and plenty in those stories, for although the people physically starve and thirst, those significant experiences they bring back with them become life markers, things that redefine their past, present and future.

I wonder what I will find.  My relationship with this emptiness is volatile.  Some weeks, I long for it and anticipate with joy.  Other times, I find myself, like today, longing for activity to bring solace to a patternless day.  One thing I've learned so far is that simply having fun isn't necessarily life-giving.  Too many video games and movies can make life grey instead of glorious.

Gosh this is hard work!