All's quiet on the western front

With a husband and two kids, this is something that is rare indeed. I used to experience this when the kids were in school, when they were small. But then I started work, and after that went back to school myself, so I was also gone when they were out of the house.

For years, whenever I've been home, someone else has also been here. Oh, I can get off by myself for a time, if I take a bath, or go back to our room to take a nap, or trot down to my corner in the basement to sew. People do stick their heads around corners to check on me ("How's it going, babe?"), or to ask a question ("May I go over to Shane's house?" "Can I borrow your shirt?"), but they also generally allow me to have some space. Still, there's always that awareness that someone else is moving around in the house.

Don't get me wrong: this is a good thing. I like being part of my family, connected and accompanied, even as my more introverted soul needs some solo time. And mostly that time in bedroom or basement is sufficient.

In the three years I was in seminary, I got used to a bit more alone time. I had a dorm room on campus into which I could retreat-- for study, or prayer, or simply recharging-- when I was there during the week.

My own room.

Honestly, this was a first. (I went from sharing a room with my sister, to a college roommate, to a husband, without missing a beat). And I liked it. Even when I was missing my family, and stuggling with the growing pains and challenges that seminary entailed, I found some solace in the ability to retreat into that little room.

Well, school is done, and I am home, and loving it-- living with my family full-time; being here and sleeping in my own bed every night; daily interactions with these people who are so integral to my life. And I wouldn't trade that for the world. Already I'm not sure how I stood being away so much the last three years.

At the same time, I have moments where I miss that space. And I didn't realize how much until the family left this morning to spend the weekend visiting Grandma down in southern Indiana. I work weekends now, of course, so I couldn't go.

So I'm alone in the house. All weekend.

I've spent today in ways both commonplace and amazing. In conversation, and in quiet... thinking, and writing, and reading, as well as cleaning and sewing... wandering in my mind, and not going anywhere else.

I will be very, very glad to have the tribe back on Sunday; but this time has been a blessed, grace-filled gift in ways I could not have expected. And I am grateful.