My time of retreat felt like flight.  Not the kind we’re used to these days when you’re herded like cattle through security and shoved into a seat appropriately sized for a nine-year-old.  It was flight that was light and swift, like a blue jay.  The wind was in my hair and I glided, soared, and soaked in the view. The landing has been a little rough, though.  I thought I was prepared for it.  I knew that coming home after having completely uninterrupted days in 70 degree weather and sunshine would be a jolt.  It’s been more than that, like there are literal forces at work against me, trying to siphon all enthusiasm from a completely full tank. I ended up in a mix of tears and manic laughter at my small group last Thursday, when I was asked to share a prayer request for the week.  Even though I was

I’ve been saying for months that I need to press the pause button, so I have some uninterrupted, concentrated time to think and recharge.  My thought is this would be a day at home and everyone in the house will pretend I’m not there.  Yeah, I know that was wishful thinking! My kids can pretend to be ninjas and spacemen and super heroes, but they cannot pretend I am not there.  Sebastian doesn’t know what a creative retreat is and when he has to pee, my elbow is the one he will bump with his nose.  Jeff would do his best, but there’s only so much a guy who works full-time and is a full-time grad student can do to keep me fenced off. So, he brought up the idea of giving me the chance to go a local hotel for my own creative retreat.  The idea was still on

In a recent comment, Cami made a request. “I for one, would love to hear you talk about balancing a blogging career with kids and family.  I’m just getting mine rolling and I feel so overwhelmed at times.  You’ve been going at this longer and I would love to hear your ups and downs and ways to manage it all.  Balance.  The great juggling act of life! 😉  Thanks for all your words!” Oh, Cami.  You’re asking the blind to lead the blind.  Everyone who knows me even a little bit, knows that I struggle with balance. I struggle. I can manage okay when our routine is in motion, but when it’s off, because of a snow day, vacation, sickness, whatever, all of the balls I’ve managed to keep airborne, awkwardly at times, come falling down.  And it’s not the funny, slapstick routine where the balls fall down and the clown spastically tries to catch