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October 3, 2011

Normally, I attach being barefoot to being relaxed, maybe poolside, kicking around the house on a do-nothing day.

In general, I find that to be true. I think I have a generally greater sense of ease than many people, simply because living barefoot is a natural de-stressor.

But… not this week. What a week it was. Personnel troubles are never easy and when they hit my department, well, they hit hard. I’m blessed to have a staff that is more mature than most in our building – no teens, not even any young adults. Most of us have good lives, with strong families. So when trouble erupts, it happens big.

This week was big. Not even the “barefoot boss” could keep his cool.

Saturdays are generally a day I devote to work for Church, so this afternoon (Sunday) and this evening have been wind-down time. This morning I preached a sermon on the life of Abraham and the example of faithfulness to God he was. Went to dinner after Church with a couple at Bob Evans and over ate (:-().

Then I napped like there was no tomorrow.

One of those disorienting naps, where the dreams are so intense that you wake up unable to recall which world was real.

It was one of those naps that I felt like I had awakened in a different year, a Rip van Winkle sort of nap.

A nap from which, I confess, I am still tired.

My nap prevented me from mowing the lawn, which I don’t normally do on Sundays anyways, but it was such a thorough nap that I don’t seem to care about it. The grass isn’t going anywhere anyhow.

Napping is a quaint old custom. A lot of people don’t nap any more. There are sports to watch or things to run and do. There’s always work to do – work on the house or work in the yard or work to do in advance of going to work.

But I believe in them. A nap is worth its weight in gold, if it had any weight. And the Sunday afternoon nap is an institution in our family. I am pleased that our daughter still partakes of Sunday afternoon naps though she has moved half-way across country. Our son napped on Sundays when he was still living here… he hasn’t said if he naps in his new place, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

There was a time when I was somewht ashamed of my napping. It felt lazy. It felt irresposible. For a work-aholic like me, it seemed nearly heart wrenching. I have come to terms with my shame. It has been balanced with my need for a period of rest for mind, body and soul.

So I bid you a fond good night again. See you tomorrow.


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