Today I turned six again. This time there’s a zero after it. But what’s a zero? Zilch. Zip. Nothing.
I don’t know what time of day I arrived, and there’s no one who remembers to remind me. I do know I arrived two weeks late (which may explain my proclivity to tardiness) and that my mom, already mother to three children under five years old, hung wet laundry on the line between contractions. So I think I arrived during daylight hours on a sunny day.
Genesis tells me God created the heavens and earth in six days and then rested on the seventh, blessing and hallowing it. I’d like to take my cue for my seventh decade from God. I want my sixties to be blessed, holy, and restful.
I don’t mean restful in the sense of ceasing activities. God has given me some things to do—teaching and writing, to name two—and I sense I’m not finished yet. Rather in the midst of life, I want the rest Jesus offered, soul rest from the Lord of the Sabbath.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28 – 30, NIV
I wonder what that looks like. Trusting more and worrying less? Singing more and complaining less? Giving more and demanding less?
I expect I’ll frequently mess up on this. Please be patient with me. I’m only six.