My friend is in the middle of a month-long sabbatical. She has gone to the woods to meditate on her life as it is and as she wills it to become. She is recently diagnosed with fibromyalgia and several other conditions; she needs to take some time to figure out how to live as a person with physical challenges. She is also facing a looming empty nest; she wants to explore what opportunities this could bring over the next few years, to balance well her gains and losses. She does not want to become a lonely pea rattling about in an empty pod.
She has been preparing for this retreat, as she calls it, for several months. She packed books, art supplies, exercise dvds - she is ready to make it a really productive and worthwhile time.
I miss my regular weekly coffee hour with her, having her beside me in worship, the occasional impromptu girls' outing. I admire her for taking the initiative to arrange this for herself, the courage to carry it out, and the value I know she will derive from it. I could say I envy her opportunity, and that would be true, but I also know that what she manages to get done with her month of June and what I would achieve under the same circumstances are two vastly different things.
She will rest, as she needs to do, but she will also make good use of the time she now has to use her art supplies without inhibition, to journal for hours without interruption, to walk in the woods and commune with the Maker, to eat good plain food, to exercise. I would not. Which may well be why she received this gift and I did not, aside from the tiny detail that she asked and I didn't.
If I were dropped in the woods alone I would hide in the cabin and sleep. I would venture forth only as far as the nearest convenience store, where I would load up on my carb-of-the-day. I would read fluffy novels - nothing challenging, certainly, although I would take a metric ton of serious-sounding books with me, to impress . . . me? I don't know. I would also take a large boxful of silly movies. For me, it would be just one long lost weekend.
I would not walk in the woods because nature scares me. It is, I have discovered, not at all like Uncle Disney portrayed it. I've never received much help from the little furry or feathery creatures, even though I have been known to wander about, clutching my white throat with my tiny hands, sighing and tearful. Usually I've done this after I have discovered that one of the furry creatures has eviscerated one of the feathery ones, and left largish gory bits strewn about. I find this distressing.
I did hear from my absent friend this week. She borrowed a computer to send me her mailing address, as I intended to write. It took her half of her month away to accomplish this, and I am delighted; I want her to do just as she feels will benefit her and accomplish the significant goals she set for this experience. I was writing to her anyway, and was going to letter-bomb her when she returned. I'm thoughtful that way.
Have you ever thought about a sabbatical? Have you ever seriously considered one? Seriously enough to pray for circumstances to allow one? Where would you go? What would you plan to do? What would you really do? My friend intends to return completely renewed. Can you top that?
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