Last week, I broke something. It’s something I’ve held onto, counted on, believed in, and needed. It’s something we all have. There’s nothing wrong with it, generally. In fact, finding a good one is a worthy practice. But, I broke mine last week.

I broke the rhythms of my daily life for 5 days. I went on vacation… without my kids. Whatever I usually do, I didn’t do on vacation (even some of the good things). I fell asleep when I was tired. I woke up when my eyes opened. I got out of bed when I was truly ready. I ate when I was hungry. I stopped eating… when I was tired. I went for a “run” (read: all-out mountain trail death sprint) with Amanda. She, who happens to be a runner, is convinced this our new “thing.” My body is firmly convinced it is not. I turned off all alarms, alerts, beeps, tones, keyboard sounds, and reminders of my usual rhythm. I changed the way I read the Bible. I talked differently to Amanda. I talked differently to God. Perhaps, because I was less hurried or less anxious or maybe, because I was free of the pressure to manage things, I felt a newness I desperately needed.

What is so surprising for me, most likely because I don’t do this enough, is that breaking any pattern is so very difficult. Even when I need to break the cycles that cause me harm, I find myself holding on to them with an uncommon protective vigilance. Summer is almost here. Kids in school naturally change their rhythm. We don’t. Perhaps, even without a really great vacation, a small change in the “way we do things around here” might be worth the effort.

I realize I can’t always break my rhythm with a vacation (my 15th anniversary was a great time for me to do so). But, in the rare and tiny pockets of time that offer an unexpected respite from the familiar cadence of my daily life, perhaps I’ll live differently within them: a cancelled meeting, early arrival at carpool pick up, someone else taking care of carpool altogether, accidentally leaving the phone in the car, or even a whole day off. Maybe, I’ll even learn how to actually carve out moments for that ever-elusive “margin” we’ve heard so much about but so rarely, seize…

…That is, until I hear my phone chime a predictable and timely reminder.

See you Sunday,

Jeff