Sabbatical Inquisition
a poem by Peter M. Ivey
What did you do in me this summer?
Today’s poem came out of time spent in solitude before returning from my summer sabbatical. I had retreated to the North Carolina high country and nestled my way into a small mountain hermitage for three nights with a desire to reflect on my time away from work.
As I settled into the silence and became honest with myself, I began to realize that a certain question was lingering for me. Here’s what I had to say in my journal:
I’ve been asking Jesus, “What did you do in me this summer?” More accurately, “What do I have to show for this sabbatical? What can I tell people you accomplished in me during these three luxurious months off of work which no one else ever gets to experience, and we’re pretty pissed off that you got to do it and not us, so you better have something mind-blowing to share with us!”
And what I’ve begun to wonder is this: Did Father, Spirit, Jesus convene and say, “Peter needs to be freed from his chains this summer, which often look like performance, so we’re going to pull back from our usual interactions and simply allow our dear Peter to be a kid for three months…We’re going to cut him loose in fields of beauty and family, let him find his lightness again.”
“We won’t leave him, though he’ll feel like we have because he’s so used to those Us-forsaken chains. He needs a taste of the upstream life, which often feels like absence, though it’s really full immersion. Maybe this will give Peter a taste of a new way that’s weightless in the worldly sense yet dense in the spiritual. Let’s set him free.”
From here, today’s poem came to be. I pray there might be something in it meant for you, dear friend.
Sabbatical Inquisition
What did I do this summer, you ask? Why, I would be most happy tell you. I slipped that worn-out weighted vest off your broadening shoulders to watch you pedal with grinning fury around the isles. I hid your shoes with the flapping soles to see you barefoot in fields of blue lobelia, ironweed, and spicebush swallowtails. I revived your eyes to the daisies that live under your half-hipped roof. I set you free in wispy veins of fading orange. I triumphed in your child-like wonder. I applauded your forgetfulness. I loved you just the same.
An Invitation
Is there a word, phrase, or image that captures your attention in today’s poem?
Where do you notice a resonance within you as you read today’s poem? Where do you experience a dissonance, or a resistance? Become curious about this, and consider sharing your thoughts with God.
Consider reading the poem one more time, asking the Holy Spirit, What invitation are you offering me here today? Listen, linger, and rest in God’s unending love for you.
If today’s poem spoke to you in any way, I’d love to hear about it! Consider dropping a word in the comments below or sending me a message. You might also consider sharing it with your friends!
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Well the prose to set up your poem is stellar… what you wrote n your journal… the curiosity of how Creator might think of us stopped me in my tracks. Some poems need the set up— regardless. Without the set up I would have skipped through your poem. Now I will saunter.
I applauded your forgetfulness. I loved you just the same.”
“Creator-Sets-Free” again!!