March 30: Rest on the Next Turn, Winter Rose, No Rest for the Wicked

Santiago rests a little . . . 

"I'll rest on the next turn as he goes out," he said. "I feel much better. Then in two or three turns more I will have him."

His straw hat was far on the back of his head and he sank down into the bow with the pull of the line as he felt the fish turn.

You work now, fish, he thought. I'll take you at the turn.

The sea had risen considerably. But it was a fair-weather breeze and he had to have it to get home.

Winter rose considerably today.  No school for my son.  Virtual learning.  Which means that he checks online to see if he has any work to do (he usually doesn't), and then he plays computer games the rest of the day.  

I, on the other had, taught at the university.  Worked at the library.  Hosted a concert in the evening.  When my father had busy days, he always said, "No rest for the wicked."  That saying comes from Isaiah 48:22:  "The Lord God said, peace is not to wicked men."  

Perhaps wicked people keep themselves busy planning and doing wicked things.  Or maybe the phrase is more metaphysical.  The wicked person's mind is never able to rest because it is constantly in a turmoil of guilt and anger and sadness.  No peace of mind.

I don't think of myself as a particularly wicked person in any way.  I don't go out of my way to ruin lives or kick puppies.  Yet, I am constantly weary.  Even as I was sitting in a blues concert this evening, I was thinking of my couch at home.  A pillow.  The darkness of my eyelids.  

Marty wouldn't mind being the patron saint of naps.

And a Lenten poem . . . 

In Praise of Sameness

by:  Martin Achatz

Each morning, I rise at the same time,
4:15 a.m. I eat the same breakfast:
Two soft eggs, a piece of toast, unbuttered.
I drink the same kind of soft drink,
Two cans of Diet Mountain Dew. I work
Until 10:40 a.m. Then I drive to campus,
Teach a literature class from 11 a.m.
Until 12:30 p.m. I walk back to my office,
Where I hold office hours from 12:45
Until 1:40 p.m. I drive back to my other
Office, work from 1:47 p.m. to 4:53 p.m.
I drive home, arrive at 5:19 p.m. I eat
Dinner at 5:42 p.m. Hot dogs and eggs
Or turkey breast and mashed potatoes.
Maybe stir fry with broccoli, chicken.
I drive my daughter to religion class
At 6 p.m. Pick her up at 6:45 p.m.
Take her to ballet class. 7 p.m. Pick
Her up at 7:50 p.m. Drive home. 8:09 p.m.
Make sure my daughter takes a shower.
Prepare lunches, set out tomorrow's clothes.
Get my daughter to bed by 8:47 p.m.
Correct papers, prepare lesson plans.
Until 10:12 p.m. Brush. Floss. Bed.
10:38 p.m. I give God thanks for this
Sameness. The gift of no surprises.
Surprises bring bronchitis to babies. Brake jobs
When you expect oil changes. Pulmonary
Embolism after Caesarean section.
Breast cancer in your 80-year-old father.
A roof leak after a hard winter.
Unemployment after 20 years on the job.
Loss of health insurance. Loss of home.
Planes flying into skyscrapers,
Soldiers in sand, in mountain cave.
I praise God for sunrises, sunsets,
Stars, moon, planets, universe all in place.
I praise the God of habit, of the mundane.
Of garage sales. Of unbuttered toast.
Dry. Plain.