"B" and I counted down the minutes as I closed out Microsoft Word and "x-ed" out that blessed/cursed Microsoft Outlook. (To date, two days without email is probably worth 12 weeks of sabbatical, already!) I want you to understand that it's not that our boys are embittered by our work. Nor are we. They fully understand the benefits that we, and they, receive as pastors. But as we have prepared for the beginning of our sabbatica, it's not the trip to Plymouth, MA, with their grandparents (who will travel with us on this pilgrimage) they are most looking forward to... not their first trans-Atlantic crossing... not London... not Paris... not walking 62.1 miles across northern Spain (definitely not what they're most excited about!)... not even the two-and-a-half day rafting trip down the Colorado River, or another excursion in the Grand Canyon with Sue-Sue, Don, and Katie (who ventured into the Canyon with us in 2006). When we talk with our boys about what they are looking forward to the most during this sabbatical... having mom and dad home for the summer seems to be the hands-down winner. No "Sorry, we can't make the baseball game today, Jackson -- you know, it's Sunday..." no, "Sorry Bennett, but we've had to cancel the camping trip -- you understand that we have to do funerals, whenever they are needed..." and no, "Boys, we hate to break it to you, but one of us is going to have to leave vacation... but we'll be back." We understand that when ministry calls, we've signed up to answer. They understand this, too. But they are 10 and 12, and like all other children their age, they like their parents to see them play, and so far (everyone knock on wood!) they still like spending time with us. So... as we closed down the computer, Bennett could feel the gravity of this moment, and as we pulled out of the church driveway, at 6:24 p.m., I announced, "Sabbatical has officially begun."
OK... so we came by the office twice on Friday and I spent 45 minutes doing work with Mecklenburg Ministries, and left one "last" phone message for Anne Neal, but... sabbatical has started.
I'm typing this on a Saturday night, out on our patio kitchen. The Cubs and Reds are playing, and that cloud is not hovering in the back of my mind. That undeniable weight that slowly gathers on Saturday afternoons/evenings (regardless the degree to which a sermon is complete). That almost-unconscious reminder that tomorrow is "the day." And it comes every week. (At least!) Yes, it's a weight we've accepted. Gladly. How can something you so truly love be the thing you most look forward to deleting from your life for a few weeks? (To be sure, we'll be in church, somewhere, every Sunday the boys' baseball is not calling. But we're looking forward to three months of well-slept Saturday nights, and sitting on your side of the pulpit for a while.)
6:24... and, OK... we are counting! Thanks for the opportunity to do just that.
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