Golde

Right now, Bryan and I are housesitting. More than that, we are dog-sitting in this house. (And I happen to be couch sitting as I type this.) You can't say that we are babysitting exactly, because the babies belong to us. But, regardless - Eight puppies. Two grown up dogs. Two 4-month old boys. Two of us.

 I know my life is busy. Full. But not really. It seems that my life consists of moments of mayhem with babies crying for food, the pot boiling over on the stove, and AT&T calling over and over again. That is followed by enough quiet that I can hear the rain falling outside and the dog snoring beside me.

On the old movie "Fiddler on the Roof" there is a scene where everyone is rushing around their little home, preparing for the Sabbath. From sunset on Friday night to sunset on Saturday (correct me if I'm wrong) they would do no work. No cooking, no cleaning, no plowing, no laundry, etc.  About a month ago, I realized that I don't intentionally rest very often. I work until it is done or until I am too tired to continue and then I fall asleep feeling like a failure for not sweeping up the inexhaustible amount of dust that gathers on the edges of my laminate floor. However if, per chance, I decide to take a "well-deserved break", I spend the entire time creating a to-do list in my mind, or at least trying not to. Not exactly restful.

So, the decision is that I will not work on Sundays. Not because I think that this is the right and proper day for a Sabbath, but because I think it is most likely that I can maintain my incentive on this day.

  The inevitable result for me? I rush around on Saturday night with images of Golde, the Jewish traditionalist, running through my head. "Hurry! The sun is almost down! Bake the bread! Light the candles!" And then, with the dawning of Sunday morning, I am free. The only guilt I feel is when I don't do nothing enough.

And it makes me think, God is smart.

And, Monday is chore day.