Praying With My Hands...

So the summer looks to be... fairly, let's just say... "active." (But could you imagine that we'd plan a sabbatical any other way?) Yesterday, a baseball friend, who'd just heard we were on sabbatical, asked Amy if we were goign to "do any travelling" while we were off! Amy said she was almost embarassed to tell her... motorcycle trip to the mountains... New England... New York with Jackson's ball team... London... Paris... Spain... Arizona... "Yes. We'll be travelling. A little."

And it suits. We've always packed our vactions so full, and enjoyed such an active time, that work has always seemed a little more like "vacation," when we returned!

So, I said to Amy that I was a little worried about our non-travel time. Would I be able to enjoy it? Sitting still is not my thing. Nothing gives me "the bots" (to borrow an expression from Amy's dad) any worse than having a day off and having nothing scheduled to do with it. Fix something. Make something. Go somewhere. Do... something.

So a summer to sabbatical. I'm not so sure. I recently made a gift of wood and in my note to the recipient I commented that I "do my best praying with my hands." So the summer of pilgrimage will suit just fine. Pray with my feet.

As to the other 40 days, with no agenda... I'll keep you posted!

r