Road trip

By the time this posts I’ll be en route to Nashville for a writing conference. Even just typing that sentence makes me feel a little presumptuous. Wouldn’t my time be better spent at a parenting conference? A cooking class? A spiritual retreat? Maybe so. But it’s been almost ten years {my oldest two were wearing diapers and taking bottles} since I’ve done anything in the way of professional development. I’m a little rusty on how one even prepares to go to a conference or travels alone. But I feel like this is a new season and a good time to work on this craft with more intention.

Lately my writing here has been serious and devotional. In part, that’s because I do that type of writing for a small side job. But something about writing strictly devotional content feels like I’m only telling half the story. And I want to connect with you more candidly. So here’s a little of what’s happening in real time as I head to the middle of the state for less than sixty hours.

As I’ve been getting ready to go out of town for three days, my family is acting as if I’m leaving for some sort of months-long expedition. There have been tears and prayers. My youngest offered my trip up as a prayer request in her class last week. My middle one is worried sick that Daddy won’t know how to pick her up at dismissal. What will she wear? Who will tuck her in at night? Who will do her hair? And my oldest wants to know how she’ll get to and from her late evening dance rehearsals. Will she need to skip? Walk home? Quit dance altogether?

Yesterday my 2nd Grader asked with a heavy sigh: “Why can’t Daddy just go to the conference?”

Well, because he isn’t a writer. And because my roommate is a girlfriend of mine. The spouse and I may be figuratively “one flesh” but we’re not exactly interchangeable as individuals, convenient as that would be.

Yesterday on the way to school my 5th Grader was quizzing me about the nature of the conference and finally said, “Wait. So, you’re going to be having a jolly ‘ole time while we’re here at school??!!”

A jolly ‘ole time indeed. Except for the moments when I’m worried about what’s unfolding {or not unfolding—homework! housework! healthy meals!} here on the home-front.

For twelve years my children have wondered what I do all day and repeatedly asked me what I’m going to be when I grow up. But, alas, they are connecting the dots between their survival—or at least their snacks—and my presence. I would be lying if I said it isn’t a tiny bit satisfying to know I’ll be missed. Even if I’m only missed for being a reliable chauffeur, the locator of lost leotards, and a mobile vending machine.

At least that’s something.

In all seriousness, their dad is confident and totally capable of taking the reigns for a few days. And he is undoubtedly a hundred times more fun. These girls are in good hands.

One facet of this conference, the facet I’m least interested in, focuses on publicity and platform-building. I’ll never be at home with that language. In part because I have three little people who remind me how often the biggest roles we play are the ones that feel the smallest in the moment.

But what I do hope to learn during these few days away is a little about how to serve you better. You are a kind sounding board and a place of connection and community to me. I hope to be something of the same for you. And I don’t take that goal—or my day job as a mini-van-driving mom, the keeper of schedules and server of snacks—lightly.