As I write this, it is still Saturday. Tomorrow, Sunday, I will take a sabbath from writing. (Not from work: two worship services, a congregational meeting, a mission project in the city and an ordination.) By the end of the day, I will sit still and listen to this beautiful anthem written by Christine McIntosh that a friend posted.
I can imagine these words being whispered by pregnant Mary that first night in Elizabeth’s home. Full of Elizabeth’s warm welcome and blessing, drained by the exuberance and intensity of her own singing (Luke 1:46-55), but still too restless to shut her eyes, Mary steps out of the home of her sleeping friends and stares into the moonless sky. I may do the same by the time I get home after tomorrow.
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