A Holiday

I am a big proponent of self-devised holidays.  My friend Rachel in Australia invented the charming notion of ‘Blossom Day’ for her daughter as a festivity of their down under spring-in-November.  Years ago ‘Joy Day’ was instituted by my sister and me as an excuse to celebrate one of our favorite friends; another of our fancies was ‘Domesticity Day’ wherein the home-arts were honored with girlish enthusiasm—I still have the apron I made that day to commemorate.  And shortly after Philip and I were married, I almost had him going on the notion that ‘Husband Day’ was a nationally recognized holiday for which he should take the day off of work.  (He did end up taking a personal day at my request and was amply rewarded with a day of delights…a bracing hike in the North Georgia mountains, a homemade picnic by the wayside, an afternoon of antiquing in out-of-the-way nooks…)

I informed Philip last night that I was taking my very own holiday today.  With several busy weeks behind me and the gorgeous prospect of The Holidays glittering ahead, I suddenly felt the need for a bit of quiet indulgence.  I was convicted a while back of the need to give myself the freedom of fallow days from time to time; ordinary dates whose projects and plans may not be quite so essential at a second look as they seemed when I first engaged them in my Franklin-Covey.  I remember one summer day that I spent almost entirely on my porch swing with Gone With the Wind.  I love ‘snow days’ for the same reason because by their very nature (in the South, at least!) they seem to authorize me to do little more than sit by the fire with my knitting and a constant supply of hot tea.  But such times of permissive pampering are rare, and every so often we just need to take ourselves in hand and unplug our planners lest they overheat and wreak havoc—not only upon ourselves, but on those we love.   Life goes by too fast not to stop and just look at it from time to time.

Psalm 46 contains one of my very favorite verses: Be still and know that I am God.  I could never recount how many times the Lord has used that passage as a gentle reproof to hush my fevered thoughts or check unnecessary haste.  It has always come upon me as soft, sweet music, like a loving whisper from the Beloved’s lips close to my ear.  But two days ago I saw it with new eyes: not as a pleasant suggestion but as a command.  Not only for my comfort but for His glory as well.  It carried an imperative, a voice of majestic authority, the same voice that speaks in Isaiah and insists upon silence in the presence of God.  The Hebrew word actually implies a forceful exclamation: Be still!  I picture a striving tumult being shocked into stillness by a mighty shout.  That shout reverberated with loving grace in the quiet of my den the other morning and I am still pondering its implications.  A precious friend and mentor of mine once wrote, “When we are still we hear God more clearly and when we arise from our stillness before Him our service for Him is more fruitful.”  What a good word for the approaching season!  Another friend told me last year that the one thing that made her Christmas the best yet was daily quiet time with the Lord, renewing her focus, re-centering herself upon the sure footing of His presence.      

And so, I am having my own little holiday with the Lord today.  I put on my very favorite skirt this morning, a long tweed that I made from a Victorian pattern.  I built a fire in the den first thing and I had cookies with my elevenses tea.  I have a stack of pleasant pastimes and quiet pursuits close at hand, and after a walk through crunching leaves with the dogs I think I’ll curl up with my very neglected journal.  And of course a nap is in order…Here’s Hail! To Quiet Day!