My husband, a minister, takes Fridays off. He often stays busy meeting a bunch of firefighters and paramedics for breakfast at United, lunching with anyone who wants to talk, catching up on the things he likes to do. But today he joined me on the hammock for a little while.
I love my hammock, a mother's day gift a few years ago. I interrupted Bob's puttering and told him I'd be waiting there for him. Then I slipped outside, settled myself on the wide, gently rocking bed, and looked up into the clearest blue sky I'd seen in weeks. The air, soft from recent rains, felt like silk on my arms; the sun, like a warm hug. Bob came out, tipping the hammock as he situated himself. It takes talent getting two people on and off the thing. We talked for a few minutes. Then we dozed.
I hang out on the hammock a lot, but not nearly enough lately. My philosophy is that every home should have one, and that all of us should spend more time on them. I snuggle with my kids there, pray there, figure out storylines there, and take lots and lots of catnaps there. In fact, I love dashing to the hammock in search of God and his solace and finding it through prayer and ten minutes of weightless sleep.
I'm ashamed to admit I've been consumed with the Zimbabwe trip as if my Father doesn't have every detail under control. Yes, I've met with folks and worked on Line of Departure stuff and helped my boy with his homework and watched movies and read the Word and done laundry and run errands and written on my new novel, but my thoughts always go back to this upcoming journey. I've spent too many hours in the last few weeks wondering how I'll handle it all and whether I'm packing too much or not enough.
But today, on the hammock, I found freedom from Zimbabwe and everything else, my head cushioned by my husband's strong arm, tensions soothed by the sun, spirit lulled by the sound of trees rustling in the breeze, thinking about nothing. Just enjoying God's blessings. My friend Jerome calls it soulspace. Having space in our life for God to push past the clutter and into our hearts.
And he did.