My minister is currently preaching a sermon series for Lent on “sabbath,” encouraging us to think both theologically and practically about cultivating hearts and habits of rest.

Anyone who has ever met me, even slightly, will know that this is not a strength of mine. Either the heart for it or the habit of doing it. (And that’s an understatement).

But it’s spring break at Calvin this week–and I’m actually taking at least a few days off. It’s a tiny step for my work-loving self. And I’m hoping to learn better how to observe at least some of “this rather ridiculous performance” that Mary Oliver promises.

Hope you will see something like it, too.

Invitation 
Mary Oliver

Oh do you have time
        to linger
                for just a little while
                       out of your busy

and very important day
        for the goldfinches
                that have gathered
                       in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,
        to see who can sing
                the highest note,
                       or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,
        or the most tender?
                Their strong, blunt beaks
                       drink the air

as they strive
        melodiously
                not for your sake
                       and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning
        but for sheer delight and gratitude—
                believe us, they say,
                       it is a serious thing

just to be alive
        on this fresh morning
                in the broken world.
                       I beg of you,

do not walk by
        without pausing
                to attend to this
                       rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.

Photo by MICHAEL MURPHY on Unsplash