A few posts ago, I was tossing hypothetical coins into a hypothetical well, making what I acknowledged to be largely self-serving wishes. Among them was the desire for a whole month of Saturdays in which I could write my new book. Maybe I should voice my wishes more often!
Rather unexpectedly, a friend invited me to join a small group on a trip to Breckenridge, CO. As it was a somewhat last minute invitation, my first instinct was to not give it any serious regard. But my friend’s generous offer occupied every other thought in my head for the remainder of that day, so the serious regard couldn’t be avoided for too long. As the group is traveling there for skiing, of course, and I haven’t skied in over 10 years, I thought it’d be silly to tag along but not participate in the fun. And then I thought, “What a great idea to tag along but not participate in the fun!” Translation: for at least part of each of the five days in CO, I could have the chalet to myself while they are skiing. I could write! It might not be a month, but suddenly I was faced with the offer of five “Saturdays” for writing. Once this dawned on me, I could not put aside the idea of accepting my friend’s invitation. I told myself not to get my hopes up since there were several obstacles that would need to be overcome if I were to go. One by one, each obstacle worked out smoothly. I was left without any valid reason not to go.
So here I am, six days away from my first visit to the Rocky Mountains; plane ticket purchased; arrangements made; anticipation building. The others in the group are likely wondering if they should feel sorry for me when they’re heading out for some adventure on the ski slopes and I’m left to amuse myself at the house. I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince them not too offer their pity. I only know I won’t be in need of it.
Another friend, when I told him about the trip and my excitement about having the time to write, asked why I needed to go away to write. Couldn’t I just stay at home and do the same thing? Maybe I should be able to do that, but I just can’t. When I am at home, I have other responsibilities, other priorities with rightful claims on my time. It’s not as if the only incentive for going to Colorado is the writing hours. There is also the chance to see a breathtakingly beautiful area of the country which I have yet to visit. There’s the time that will be spent with several wonderful people (when they aren’t on the slopes). There’s the fact that the chalet we have for five nights is free of any expense to ourselves. But the writing hours do count as one of the incentives, without a doubt. After months of setting my book aside, of taking it off the priorities list (sometimes with and sometimes without complaint), I feel as if the Lord is saying, “Here you go. Here’s a little time for you and your pen and your paper. Take it. Enjoy it. Use it well. And while you’re at it, soak in some of the beauty I created in this world and have a grand time with some of the people I’ve placed in your life.”
Maybe my hypothetical wishing well wasn’t so hypothetical after all.