On the coldest day of the year in Austin, I pull my fleece jacket tight and slide my hands deep into pockets. My fingers fumble over a piece of paper lost but now retrieved. A fishing license. Permission to wade in Colorado waters and cast my rod like a spell in hopes a greenback cutthroat trout will magically appear taking the nymph fly as bait.
Five months have passed since I last picked up my fly rod. Too long. Husband gave me a new rod for Christmas and I’m itching to give it a whirl. I miss the beauty and serenity of casting, the adrenaline of chasing fish, and the patience of bringing one to the net. I long for the life-giving moments of being waist high in waters surrounded by the wonder of God’s vast creation.
We are in the midst of penning dates in ink for our summer at the YMCA of the Rockies. Summers at the Y are a true Sabbath for me. Not in a traditional day marked sundown-to-sundown, but in the sense that as long as we dwell at the Y, we cease from work and the need to be productive, and from our own efforts and accomplishing.
Sabbath is not a vacation, but an invitation to enter the rest of God.
Join me at the YMCA of the Rockies blog today for this month’s Y-Story on Sabbath.