Lately this poem by Christina Rossetti has been in my head. The past few years have been incredibly packed with having kids, finishing university and seminary, getting ordained, moving several times and now settling on the other side of the Atlantic. There is a sense that I experience and am grateful for the rest God gives now, but in another sense I long to keep walking (working, praying, parenting, pastoring, teaching, serving, loving and learning), waiting for a far greater rest that we have yet to taste.
Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a restingplace?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.