a lunchtime sabbath

September is almost over. It has been a hard month. My volleyball season has demanded much of me, with daily 2-3 hour practices and a grueling schedule of away games which often saw us driving "home" in the wee hours of the morning. Classes are also a constant source of work (as they should be). Though most of my courses are not difficult, they still require a good bit of effort. All of these factors (as well as the half-starved social life that I have lately been keeping alive with stale bread crusts and lukewarm water) have unfortunately led to a necessary encroachment on my regular weekly day of rest. I have not been able to take my customary Sunday completely off for most of this month, and that has been wearing on me. So today, as I walked into the crowded and noisy cafeteria for lunch, thinking anxiously about my afternoon homework and tonight's big game, I decided to take a break immediately.

I made myself a colorful wrap, complete with red tomatoes, white chicken, yellow peppers, green lettuce, and black olives. A colorful meal always makes me happy. I left the stuffy cafeteria behind and went to the sunny courtyard, where I was, surprisingly, left completely alone to revel in the beauty of fall. It was a glorious autumn day, with a brilliant blue sky and a bright sun that consented to warm me if I sat still and simply enjoyed her. The trees were turning yellow and red and orange, and leaves were starting to cover the grass. Acorns were falling on the sidewalks, and I tried to make a point of stepping on them when I walked. I liked the way that they popped underfoot.

I sat there in that bright courtyard for almost half an hour, reading a good book, enjoying my wrap, cold glass of water, and apple for dessert. I greeted people that walked past. I watched a squirrel bury something in the ground. I savored the fall sun, so different from the sun of spring or winter or summer, and thus so amazing. The air was chilly, reminding me of warm, pumpkin-colored sweaters and squealing children romping in fallen leaves. What a refreshing break in my demanding routine, a moment to simply sit and savor this, my favorite of seasons. For half of an hour, I simply observed God's play. I watched a scene starring the squirrel, with a backdrop that actually smelled like ripened leaves and felt like an autumn sun. (Pardon me while I take Wilson's masterpiece of thought and mimic it with muddy-colored fingerpaint on the back of an envelope.)

I challenge you all to take an extra moment today (before it snows tomorrow back at home...) to savor the wild beauty of autumn, to step for a minute outside the confines of your daily routine and to simply breathe in God's living masterpiece. Do it.