You’ve come to appreciate Ros’ Scottish wisdom (and spelling). 🙂 This post shares more thoughts on rest; and how restorative rest revitalizes and leads to connections. You will be blessed!

This morning I find myself in my happy place, dyeing material, at the kitchen sink. It is a rest day for us, and the house is calm. One of the girls is with me in the room, content to be absorbed in her own activity while I stand with my own thoughts, stirring a little cauldron of colour. I’m attempting to transform a cream coloured herringbone cotton tape into a vibrant teal.

One of the joys of the last two years, where our leisure time has been so frequently restricted, has been the space to consider rest. With all regular activities paused, there has been opportunity for innovation. Rest, fun, distraction weren’t going to be handed to any of us on a plate: if we wanted it, we had to find it ourselves.

But before we get into all that, let’s go back to the kitchen for a moment where the initial stages of dyeing fabric are in full swing. The concoction of powders has dissolved, now the water needs agitating for a good wee while to ensure an even colour.

Then will follow a soaking, rinsing, drying, and ta da the fabric will be ready to be enjoyed.

As I type, I’m not sure whether the colour achieved will be what I have in mind, but that is almost besides the point. For this is a process-oriented task, not a goal-oriented one. The joy is in the mixing and the watching. Witnessing the astounding feat of these tiny particles of colour, exerting their dominance over the defenceless material, irrevocably stained.

So much of life seems to be striving towards a goal, ticking something off a list, getting on to the next thing. To match our fast-paced lives, we then seek fast-paced entertainment, instant thrills, and in the midst of all that, simple pleasures are oft overlooked.

During those long lockdown-ed weekends of last year, there was a dearth of external amusement. There was nothing, socially, happening, all shops and cinemas were closed. The hills were open, as usual, but in the home, even with copious amounts of screen-viewing, we found ourselves living differently. I began to have a sense of the difference between certain types of leisure activities; those that bring relief and those that bring restoration.

Recreation that brings relief offers momentary respite from the strain. My go-to in this regard is to lose myself in something like a nordic-noir thriller series. Or gin, perhaps. Sometimes it’s the mindless scrolling or following internet rabbit-holes.

Recreation that brings restoration offers something deeper. It offers a revival of sorts to a tired, overwrought soul. An example for me of this is some creative pursuit, such as today’s dyeing of fabric, or being outside.

My bedraggled self often craves the escapism that relief rest brings. I want to absent myself from the often-challenging reality of life, to see the door marked EXIT and walk straight through it. But I learned during those lockdown-ed months that relief rest only achieves that, relief: it’s temporary, and like a drug, you’re always left craving more.

Engaging in activities that bring restoration, though, in someway bolsters or revitalises. When the pursuit has ended, there is a certain sense of equanimity at returning to every-day tasks and people, rather than resistance.

It often requires more effort to pursue a rest that restores, perhaps that’s why it’s not always my first instinct. Relief-rest seems the less demanding option, but often leaves the metallic after-taste of disconnection. I long to disconnect from whatever tensions and strains I’m experiencing, but pursuing that can come with a cost: disconnection from all sorts of other, good, things (people, my own inner-life, God).

Restorative rest, in contrast, leads to connection.

Take for example, today’s endeavour. In standing at the sink, massaging the tape as it relents to the colouration, I witness before my very eyes the creation of something new. I’m taking something dull and adding pizazz. I have to use my intuition to gauge the tone, mixing three different powders. For those moments, I’m a creative genius, in my laboratory, partaking in an experiment. Even writing about it excites me. Creativity excites me, because I’m creative, and made in the image of the Great Creator. I feel connected to a part of me that is so quickly laid to one side as the to-do list dictates other priorities. But today, on our rest, Sabbath, day, I remember that I’m not a slave to productivity – I can play, in a sense, at this sink, on this Saturday morning. What joy.

When we wander the hills, either alone or with others, we connect in wonder with that same Great Creator. When we play a game or laugh with others, we’re connecting. We’re resting, but in these pursuits we’re building connections all over the place, internally, inter-personally, divinely. We’re consolidating our connections, strengthening ourselves for the return to the fray.

Of course, we’re not conscious of any of this at the time – we’re just doing whatever we’re doing – but this is what’s going on under the surface.

As with many things, the places we go for relief aren’t always bad. Netflix isn’t evil, and gin is surely a gift to be enjoyed. But the question remains: what am I hoping my rest will achieve? A temporary reprieve, or something fuller, richer, better than that? And to whom am I looking to find it?

There are times when relief is needed, sometimes we just need to slump. But if we only pursue relief, we miss out on so much. And perhaps this is the conclusion to it all; for all of our life, including our leisure, to be submitted to the true Rest-Bringer. He alone can lead us to quiet waters of connection and provide balm for our soul.

The fabric tape has been soaking as I type. It’s a pretty colour, although not what I was expecting. The colour I was going for is actually now the shade of two of my fingers, where somehow the dye got into the gloves. A reminder for me to carry around for the next few days, of joy in simple restorative pleasure, pure gift from heaven above.