Sabbath

Remember to keep holy the sabbath day.

                                                            --Exodus 20:8

Of all the commandments, keeping holy the Sabbath is not one that I usually worry too much about.  I mean, I go to church, religiously (ha!).  We never miss a Sunday unless I am in the hospital with a new tiny human or one of the older tiny humans is puking their guts out.  But it occurred to me this weekend that I might need to take a second look.  

Let me break it down for you.  This is what happens every week:  Cookcleanfeeddisciplinediaperchaufferplaywithkids...rinse and repeat.  Saturday comes, and I turn into a jerk.  Sunday comes, we go to church, and then I turn into a holy jerk.  Usually this is because I am looking for some help around the house, and since Mike is home, I feel like the weekend is the best time to get all the things done.  And because by that time in the week, I feel like I am on a never ending merry-go-round of housework and I just want to get off!    But I also feel like I am falling into the pit of despair when my house looks like this: 

Every flat surface in my house.

Anyway.  If you read the commandment more thoroughly, this is what it says:

Remember to keep holy the sabbath day.  Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord, your God.  No work may be done then either by you, or your son or daughter, or your male or female slave, or your beast, or by the alien who lives with you.  In six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested.

                                                                               Exodus 20:8-11

Now, I do not own an alien or slaves.  Darn the luck.  And the beasts that live at my house are worthless unless you count eating food directly off of the table as a helpful skill.  But the rest of that passage might be worth considering.  So yesterday, I sorta tried to keep the sabbath holy and to actually take some time to rest.  I did not order my family around like troops, barking commands about what needed to be cleaned or making them do pushups for failure to comply.  I did only the chores that really had to be done at the moment.  I spent a few minutes reading, sitting, working on a project that I had been wanting to accomplish.  We celebrated Father's day with a laid back dinner at my in-laws house.  And at the end of the day, I felt a little better about things.  I felt a little less like a jerk, and a little more like myself.  My house might be worse for the wear come Monday morning, but we'll manage I suppose.  

Perhaps this week I will try to acquire an alien or a useful beast.