Shabbat rest

This past Friday night, I surprised even myself by declaring that I was ready for Shabbay rest. Maybe the others were surprised because the previous day was Thanksgiving and most people didn't have to work. Me, I was surprised because I had never said that before.

I had been ready for the weekend. I had been glad it was Friday night. But I had never been glad for Shabbat itself.

Part of it may have been because I worked hard last week. It may have been because I was sick but feeling better. It was almost certainly because I had arrived at Carrie's home for another of her wonderful Shabbat meals.

But that was one of those wonderful moments when I really felt Jewish. On the drive to Carrie's, I realized that it was dark and technically Shabbat already, and I felt more relaxed. But once those candles were lit, I really started to feel it. Rest. Shabbat rest. A real, definitive separation between worktime and holy time.

It was beautiful.

I'm not going to lie, though. I did work only hours later, cleaning up after the party had subsided. But even that had a sense of peace about it, because it seemed a part of the dinner, a part of the evening, a part of Shabbat.

I hope I feel that again this week. And the week after that. And every week.