Summer Rest

It used to be the norm that pastors of New England churches would leave for the coast of Maine (or if they were of a different kind of money, the Cape or Islands) about this time in June, to return around Labor Day weekend.  The son of a former minister of my church told me at his father’s memorial that he had fond memories of summers in Maine, where the kids played to their hearts’ content while their father spent the days reading in the study.  I still enjoy a break from preaching during the summer, though the church – at my encouragement and to my delight – now has worship services through the summer.  The work of maintaining a church organization really is year-round – planning collaboratively to create worship and programs to feed and inspire the souls of folks of all ages for the coming year, finding new strategies for fund-raising, cultivating lay leadership and strengthening the staff team (not to mention cleaning the office) all make for a full summer.  Add Little League games and extended family commitments and there are exactly zero days remaining for the quaint practice of old.

Since my friend Michelle has asked, here’s my response to what I’m doing on my summer ‘vacation,’ as a prayer:

Spirit of silliness and sunshine, deep soul of rumination and rain, give me moments of summer rest in which to feel you near.

God of all creation you made us all so joyfully!  Remind us that when we wrap ourselves in en-joy-ment we nestle closest to you.  For true joy knows well that the feeling we savor could so easily be otherwise, and keeps the memory of those times tucked just under its quickening heart.

So let me find you at the ball field and homemade lemonade stand, in shady woods or bustling beaches, in daydreams that take my attention from what I call my work.  Beckon me back to wonder and celebration, whether they come in long stretches in exotic locations or in brief mundane moments.  Meet me in the produce aisle, Holy One, at the gas pump, in the line at the bank, while I change diapers or check for ticks.    Hold me in your care, remind me whose I am, and help me live in the joy and the challenge of your unending love.

Amen.