I struggled toward the end of the annual writing retreat. I continued to enjoy the time away. I continued to be productive. But there was something that unsettled me. I wasn’t sure what it was.
Was it the anticipation of returning to a hectic time at work? Was it the reminder of what happened when I returned to my then-shared-home-with-my-ex five years earlier—perhaps enhanced because of plans to meet with some of that side of the family on my way home? Was it simply that I had really stepped away and savored the time, and the re-entrance into all of it felt like a lot?
I got teary-eyed a couple times.
It’s not as if I wanted to stay at the retreat. It was time to head home. I like my everyday life, routine, people. It is filled with joy and purpose. But sometimes there are struggles among even the best of life. In fact, there often are. Struggles in the context of everything else doesn’t drown them out but reminds us of the beauty of the journey.
And gratitude ebbed into my mind and heart. God reminded me of his broad and beautiful perspective.