Every article I read has been pushing me to do a better job telling stories. Here is where I'll practice.
I was carting my son around earlier today to a dentist appointment when he mentioned out of the blue how weird my job is. I'm a pastor. He's 13. That comment could have meant just about anything.
As it turns out, he meant the hours I work. There was a snow day yesterday, and a 2 hour delay this morning, and we talked about how privileged I am to have a flexible schedule. I can take him to the dentist and then to school. I can work from home.
Except when I can't.
My schedule is flexible, except when it isn't. Sunday mornings, funerals, emergency pastoral care visits, some meetings - are all non-negotiables. Neither one of us was complaining - it is what it is - but as he gets older it's been interesting to see what I do through his eyes. We've talked about Call. We've talked about what I would do if God didn't call me to ordained ministry. We've talked about what he might do some day ("not be a minister, no way, not enough time off").
I've been trying to be a better Mom, to be around more, to not make my family be the sacrifice for a perfect sermon/worship service/Session meeting. It's hard. I try to be more present when I am home. We've scheduled a family vacation, rather than stay-cation. But it's almost April. And I haven't taken vacation yet.
I'm working on the every day/every hour decisions to do this better. I need to put my family first.
And then my brain whispers, "Except when I can't."