Usually the end of vacation finds me ready to be home, but not this time. Two days was not nearly enough. I felt the acedia coming on. Leaving the beach and friends leaving and a dear saint departed to glory, and I resist that heaviness of the urge to flee. I creep on to normal, to obeying the calendar, to making a giant salad and driving down the road to gather. The plodding pays off; the reward comes sitting around the table with close ones who make no demands and community that is easy. Again, more grace than I deserve.
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