Sabbatical

A few pages back on the calendar, two things happened. I began my sabbatical and we entered road construction season! Near my house, a significant project continues where crews have been sweating it out week after week. Thanks be to God for people who make it possible to get from here to there.

The conclusion of the project near my house will be most welcomed by everyone. For workers, an end to the sun brutally beating down on them throughout this inordinately sweltering summer. For businesses nearby, easier access for customers. For moms, no more worry that kind-looking SLOW/STOP sign-holders are judging how often they drive by (sports practices, the pool, camps, coffee dates, repeat).

None of us will freely admit that sometime “down the road” in the future, we will do this all over again. No road is fixed forever! Roads, like people, require a substantial amount of regular maintenance to smooth things out. We never leave behind all the bumps. Always they exist, most noticeable when they rise to the surface, next to the patched-up cracks.

I am a couple of weeks away from my last day of sabbatical, which will happen before the end of the construction project is celebrated. Before the road is ready and perhaps before I am ready, I will enter the church building for the very first time in three months. (Such a sabbatical, by the way, is made possible by extraordinary ordained and lay staff and an encouraging Council. Thank you, Jesus, for every one of these people.)

These months have set me firmly in the slow lane. I have learned to look around and notice people, such as the people who live in the same house as me. I know them so much better now. I even talk more slowly most of the time. I learned to rest more, ask for help (that’s a fib, I didn’t learn that, I just wish I did), and to take time to write.

I like the slow lane. It’s quieter here and I don’t spend so much time worrying about running out of time.

It will take a few days or more, but I will merge back into the faster lane, even as I miss the slow lane. There is just as much to see in any lane you choose. What I learned in the slow lane will not be easily lost. I am too grateful.

So, down the road when the bumps present themselves, when cracks need patching, I can remember there is always a slow lane. It is open for any day trip, hour trip, minute trip to remember that we, like any road under our wheels, are never fixed forever. We wish repairs would happen faster and maintenance wouldn’t be so much work. But being human does require slow lanes, along with Jesus’ merciful maintenance of the bumps, and entire seasons of constructing self-compassion around the cracks. And somehow, that is enough to move you from one day to the next, from here to there.