Well, Shabbat is over. I made havdalah around 9:00 p.m., not especially in a rush to end a day apart from all others. I made a delicious salad (if I do say so myself) and my friend's daughter brought me back the leftover, after they incorporated it into their second se'udah, as I told them to. Might have some tonight, even; although it's late (almost 10) and I should get to bed at a decent hour, not having had such a good night last night (leg muscle cramps and aches).
That was actually the only thing that marred my day: extremely painful feet in my metatarsal area. I basically limped (with my cane) to my friend's house Friday night, and was in so much pain that I couldn't walk back, even with a cane, until she offered me her husband's walker. You can only imagine how I felt: like an invalid. Overcoming my (false) pride, I leaned on that walker and slowly limped home, accompanied by my friend. I will ask my physician to refer me to a podiatrist, but I really think it's due to worsening arthritis.
But now enough of my ailments--Shabbat was quiet, and spiritual. After lunch a group of women got together and "learned" from one of Rabbi Arush's books, The Garden of Education. About raising children with love and acceptance, as opposed to criticism and rejection. So true. I limped home after 6 p.m. and all was quiet, peaceful...the silence was positive. I could meditate, take comfort in the holiness of Shabbat, a day like no other. I am always sad towards the end of Shabbat...the day that is outside-of-reality-and dedicated-to-G-d is ending...something melancholy descends over me.
Because of this, my favorite night of the week, is Friday night: the Sabbath has just begun, and I have 25 hours of peace and holiness to look forward to. I do not have to go back to the mundane world, to physical-existence obligations, for a whole night and day.
Because Shabbat is such a comfort: it hearkens back to a feeling something akin to 'all is good, all is right with the world; I am safe. I am secure. I am being cradled by G-d. That is the only way I can describe it: Shabbat is being cradled by G-d.
I sang the Havdalah ceremony which ushers out the Sabbath and brings in the week, the regular, mundane week, with that touch of sadness. And sang every end-of-Shabbat song I could think of (I truly believe that a great part of my avodah, service to Hashem, is through song)
Yes, I remembered to count the Omer: it's the start of the 40th day of 49. The 50th day is Shavuot. Is it that close? Didn't Pesach just end yesterday?
Thank G-d Shabbat comes every week. Shavua Tov.