3:15

My school day officially ends at 3:15, but I rarely leave the building then. Either I have an after school activity to supervise or I am trying to make the most of quiet hours without students to get caught up on tasks that don't fit into the daily school schedule.

But one day, during the first few days of school, I left at 3:15.

It was glorious! We came home because we thought a service provider was coming and we had to be here to meet him. (I didn't know I'd come home to a message that he was going to have to reschedule.) I couldn't believe how much more time I had when I came home at 3:30 instead of 5:30. And for the two weeks leading up to the start of school, there were many days I came home at 8:30. Leaving at 3:15 was a completely foreign experience. And I liked it.

My parents instilled in me a strong work ethic. My only-child status ensures that I am a perfectionist who is not satisfied unless I have plans and materials in place at least 2 weeks out from today and that everything has to be done with complete excellence. The painful losses during the last year gave me an excuse to work like a manic woman so I didn't have to deal with all of the emotions and ups-and-downs of the last 18 months.

But I am getting to a place where I want more - or is it less?

I want to be productive and I want to do my work with excellence, but I also want to have a life. I want to have time with my family and time to pursue my hobbies, and time to actually sit down and read a book - something I seemed to have a lot more time for before I started working as a librarian, ironically enough.

Maybe, once I get "on top" of things at school and get back into the routine of my work, I'll enjoy the freedom that comes from leaving at 3:15 more often.

Lessons of Lent

During Lent this year, I noticed two things.

1) I am terrible with silence. I was supposed to set aside 15 minutes a day to spend in silence with God. I was surprised at how hard it was. I lost what little rhythm I had with the process over Spring Break and never went back. I remembered that I was supposed to be setting the time aside, but I gave it up as too hard. I may have to try to work it into my post-Easter life just to prove to myself that I can. I am a perfectionist which means I either get ridiculously driven to do something, or I quit on it because I can't do it right. I don't like to be a quitter.

2) I am also terrible at telling myself, "no." I felt immense freedom Sunday morning when I woke up. Lent was over. I could once again buy books whenever I want. Telling myself "no" for seven weeks was good discipline, but also felt oppressive. Even though there was no book I wanted to buy Sunday, I felt elated relief because I could. The relief seemed out of proportion to the denial. It would have made more sense if there was something I wanted that I could finally have, but there wasn't. It was just the principle that I could make my own choices and do whatever I wanted.

Freedom is good.

But another phrase keeps coming to mind: Everything is permissible but not everything is beneficial.

Freedom feels better than denial. But freedom comes with great responsibility. I am hopeful that the lessons of Lent will linger beyond Easter morning this year.