Weekly Roundup: Sunday, February 23, 2024
I grew up on a dirt road. The neighbor's dog owned it. He lay there in the sun, stretched out, belly flat against the warm dust. When cars came, he didn't move. They had to stop. Honk. Wait. He would only lift his head, slow and lazy, as if it were a great effort. He would sigh, rise, and walk off just enough to let them pass. Then he lay down again. Same spot. Same sun.
He had earned it. He chased squirrels, fought the other dogs, and took scraps from old men who sat on their porches. He worked hard. He played hard. And when he was tired, he stopped.
The old dog knew something. When he was tired, he didn't push through. He didn't explain. He stretched out in the middle of the road and let the world wait.
On Tuesday, I came home from the office, dog-tired. I took a COVID test—negative. Maybe it was the flu. It didn't matter. I fell into bed and slept for thirteen hours. The next night, the same. And the next. My body shut down, and I let it.
I dreamed of that dog during one of those sleep marathons and myself lying beside him. I don't give much thought to the meaning of dreams. I will let you decide.
Here is what I do know: God gave us the gift of rest so that we will recognize that life is a gift received, not a thing to be hoarded. Finding the pace of a grace-filled life begins by creating space for rest.
Take a lesson from this old dog: when you are dog-tired, let the world wait. Sleep. Rest.
I will be back with the newsletter next week.
Pastor Jamey
