A drive to a childhood home involves crossing a bridge, passing from one province into another, and then on into yet another. It passes through village and city, past stop sign and traffic light. By farmer’s field and old home, off main highway and through back road, by bay and harbour and river and lake.

It’s the familiar faces of family, the aroma of turkey wafting from the warmth of the friendliest kitchen I know. It’s the sabbath after the last moments of fall have turned from future to past, when that drive from one home to another has turned from anticipation to happy reunions. Flickering candles, family photos, favourite deserts – all things I love about this particular time of year, about a little time off at Christmas.

Some seasons are well placed.

I keep saying that Christmas vacation is meant more for turning in early than sleeping in. There’s nothing like knowing that there’s no pressures for the day to help getting up early and feeling fresh.

Doing dishes the other night, this song came up on my phone:

In a few days, I’ll have to go back home and pick up my work again. Yet, work isn’t just working for the next vacation. Even on the days I wake up to a laundry list of challenges and chores, I’m promised that I can rest easy. Perhaps that’s where faith comes in. Faith that even though I fail often enough, it’s not my own efforts that earn my merit, but Jesus’ perfections, His taking my place before God. Faith that His strength is perfect in my weakness; so I can trust in His strength working in and through me. Faith that there is nothing more I can do to make Him love me more, and nothing I can do that will ever make Him love me less.

Have you ever extended unconditional love to someone? Have you ever experienced unconditional love?

You don’t have to work so hard
You can rest easy
You don’t have to prove yourself
You’re already mine
You don’t have to hide your heart
I already love you
I hold it in mine
So you can rest easy

Andrew Peterson, “Rest Easy”