Getting away from it all

this greenhouse/cafe/farmer’s market situation, two minutes from Caleb’s soccer practice field, that I can’t believe I didn’t discover before

We had spring break a few weeks ago. And since Jason isn’t working, our schedule was completely free to take a little romantic getaway that was his early birthday present.

This Airbnb was alternately described as a cabin, a tiny house, and glamping.

The setting (at least on the cusp of early spring) was peaceful and private. We could lounge in bed with a full river view out the massive window; there was a hot tub outside the door and a firepit and a generous stack of complimentary firewood, enough for us to keep a fire going most of the time we were there. We could go down the bank and poke our toes in the river. We could grill burgers on the gas grill. We could gaze at the budding trees and flitting birds and smoothly running river from the Adirondack chairs. 

It was a perfect way to unwind, say, from professional trauma culminating in layoff a month before.

When we faced school again after spring break, we had exactly eight weeks left in the homestretch. 

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—and talking to our church’s children’s ministry director—about how to make my volunteering with children’s ministry more sustainable and less burny-outy.

VBS this past summer was, to be frank, rough. There was an unhappy confluence of events that resulted in high frustration in all quarters, and so, many, tears. 

{I mean among the leadership team. As far as I know, the kids’ experience was favorable. And I don’t remember a ton of child tears. But I cried from like Saturday to Tuesday. The war room was flooded with woe.}

One day I looked down and Buck’s tail was on crooked

And as soon as VBS finished, it was time to prepare for the new Sunday school year. 

Something had to give.

brand-new learner’s permit after passing the DMV written test

the kids were all here to celebrate Jason’s birthday

they amused themselves by doing the crab rave

I couldn’t—and still can’t—articulate all of why I was frustrated. But one thing I knew: I was sick of unending admin with no substance of Jesus. From coordinating Sunday school all last school year to coordinating Road to Resurrection in April to working VBS season through July, straight into coordinating the new Sunday school year, I had no end of behind-the-scenes spreadsheets and lists on my clipboard…and no teaching, talking, or hearing of Jesus.

I love a list of lists as much as the next person, but…blech.

Eventually they switched to POV roller coaster videos.

This school year I’ve pretty much taken over the brief large-group teaching time when all the elementary kids are together, before we dismiss to individual Sunday school classes. It’s so short that it doesn’t require any prep to speak of, and I get to spend a few minutes every week talking about Jesus and exhorting the kids to know and believe in Him. 

It’s good for my soul.

Other changes are under discussion, particularly tackling the problem of VBS season overlapping with what is typically the busiest time of year for Sunday school coordinating.

…and another day I looked down and Buck had put himself in the stocks

Lizzy did finally finish her grammar for the year, which means she doesn’t have daily school (except for Bible time) with me until she finishes her online classroom driver’s ed and it’s time for us to do behind-the-wheel instruction together. 

Jason is settling into his indefinitely-unemployed lifestyle. It’s been majorly helpful for me to have another driver during the day to help with chauffeuring. One day he cleaned out the entire shed—accomplishing in one day what I haven’t been able to face for like five years. He canceled our lawn service and bought a DIY lawnmower attachment. He gave notice to get our rental house put on the market this summer. He did taxes. He cleaned out the office. He took Caleb to an antique store that sells model trains. He transferred Ada’s college fund to her name. He mulched. He cleaned out his closet. He bought a guitar.

And his resting heart rate has plummeted since February.