Sometimes I am just plain tired.
The dailiness of life grinds on me and wears me down, paper thin.
There are no tragedies, no crises to be faced, no impossible hurdles,
just the day to day that saps my strength and leaves me wanting more.
That is how I know it is time for vacation.
In Europe, they take off the month of August, to recharge.
An entire month.
I think I am European.
If you saw my eyebrows unplucked, you would agree.
In fact, I know I am European because,
my great-grandmother, Louise Shiebelhut,
immigrated with her family down the Volga River.
They were a German family living in Russia when they made
their way to the United States and settled in Dinuba, California.
So somewhere deep inside me, my latent german-ness is crying out,
"You need the an entire month of vacation.
You may have been born in the United States
but you were made for four weeks of leisure right around August."
And I know it to be true in the very marrow of my bones.
I would be an entirely different woman if I had a month of vacation.
But I live in California, so I am settling for a good long week in Oregon.
I am looking forward to it
like a small child looks forward to a Saturday afternoon ice cream.
A rare treat. Something different. A thing to be enjoyed.
Pastor Mark always used to say,
"A change of pace + a change of place = a change of perspective."
I am ready for a change of perspective.
I am ready for some rest and some laughing
and the letting down of my hair.
I am ready for a cup of tea and a good summer read.
I am ready for an end of summer chat with God
so he can get me back on track before I launch into the school year.
So this tired supergirl is signing off for the next week,
with great anticipation and delight.
I have a road trip, family, good books
and unfettered free time lying before me.
And it just doesn't get any better than that.