I have been feeling quite fatigued from work, so I took a week off. People at work were surprised that I did this — I guess I should take more time off!
And it was so good. The rest was incredible, and coupled with glorious weather, I enjoyed every moment of it. I woke up to the rays of sunshine and had coffee with good music. Read books that warmed my heart and made me smile. Went to a park and watched kids play. Visited the gym since a long while and worked up a good sweat on the tireless treadmill. Played a bit of the piano — something like a familiar friend whom I find safe and comfortable expressing myself to, who has listened to me through my growing up, but neglected by me for a long time now (you can see I’m being very poetic here). Caught up with friends for brunch in a tucked-away alley, and lunch in a slumberous restaurant. It seemed like my hard work in the recent months — the waking up to the stars when the city was still asleep, and late tram trips back home still thinking about work — has been worth it for this week of rest.
And I wondered if this could be a foretaste of how it would feel to enter the future rest that Hebrews chapter 4 talks about. A glorious rest, after this journey on earth, fighting the good fight, walking the narrow road, splinters and all, sometimes feeling so tired, sometimes finding it so difficult. Painfully pruned, and pressing on, we are on our way home. And as Paul wrote in his letter to the Roman church, “I consider the sufferings of this present time not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”
For the longest time I couldn’t work out the details for the background, until one evening walking back home from work I realised I had this view of the Melbourne Star all the while just outside where I live. It looks even more spectacular in a frosty night when its lights don a psychedelic colour coat. Ah the small things in life.