WHAT I'VE LEARNED DURING MY SABBATICAL YEAR
My sabbatical year is melting away like ice cream on an August day in Philadelphia. On September 2nd, I return to the office and my year of not having to clock in from 9 to 5 will be officially over. Given that I took this year for rest and reflection, it would make sense that I take a little bit of time to consider what I got out of this year at home. So in no particular order are some of the things I've learned about life and about myself in the last 11 1/2 months:
1. Working from home is definitely not a good long-term solution for me. As much as I enjoy having complete freedom and flexibility in my schedule, and as much as I welcome opportunities to work in isolation, I am realizing that I dearly miss the routine of leaving the house in the morning and returning in the evening, and I particularly miss the social aspects of the office environment. No, I won't return to the workplace a converted chatterbox. But I will gladly return to that workplace and to social interactions and water cooler conversations.
2. Life goes on without me. It is at once my proudest achievement and a huge blow to my ego that my youth program has survived, even thrived, in my absence. I am proud of the fact that I have cast the vision for my work and identified and trained my staff sufficiently that the show can go on without me and even raise itself a notch. And it hurts a little to know that I'm perilously dispensible. But it's a good hurt, the healthy kind that gives leaders perspective on what they do and who they are.
3. I enjoy writing but couldn't do it full-time. I've done a ton of writing this year, both business (writing research reports, feasibility studies, and operations manuals) and pleasure (blogging, book manuscripts, and journal entries). It's been a blast to have the time and inspiration to do so. But on the days I've allocated eight hours to write, I'm lucky to get three or four good hours in, before online backgammon and ESPN.com beckon.
4. Drivenness is a sin I will spend my whole life fighting against. Like a messy person who fills a countertop or house no matter how big or small it is, I find activities and pursuits to fill whatever free time I have been given. Having a year away from the office has freed me to take on a lot of these activities and pursuits, like reading books or working on the house or going on road trips. It's been great, but it also speaks to an inability to simply be still. The great ones of faith were not great because of their constant drive towards achievement, but because of their ability to be still before God; they did great things for God out of steady communion with Him, not out of steady striving towards accomplishment.
5. I can be comfortable in my own skin. I've been on this earth for three decades, so you'd think I'd be comfortable in my own skin. Although I know a lot of people twice my age who haven't yet gotten comfortable. I don't think I'm yet comfortable, but I think I've given myself permission to be comfortable. Whether or not I'm liked, whether or not I'm healthy, whether or not I've performed well . . . none of these things need make me any more or less comfortable in my own skin. Daily, I can choose to let externalities govern my identity, or I can anchor myself in something more secure. Like Joshua, may I be able to say everyday, "As for me . . . "
6. There's more to this world than my little slice of it. I've traveled a fair amount and consider myself relatively open-minded and humble, so you'd think I would understand this already. But there was something about taking a step back from putting my nose to the grindstone every day that freed me to look up and see a whole world out there of people and systems and trends and ideas that I'd never knew existed. It's a sobering and terrifying thought, that there's so much in this world that we'll never know, never experience, never have control over. But such is life: to reject this is either to be ignorant or to fight a losing fight of securing mastery over one's world. To accept it may be terrifying, but it is also, paradoxically, freeing. Especially when you believe in an all-powerful and all-loving God who IS in charge of the world in which you live.
7. I have so much more to learn. The truest kind of wisdom is the kind where, once you've learned it, you don't feel like you've mastered something, and therefore you have less to learn. Rather, it is the kind where, once you've learned it, your eyes are open to brand new arenas you weren't previously aware of, and therefore you have more to learn. I feel that way about my job, the Bible, marriage, relationships, and even myself. For all the time I've had to consider all of these and then some, I feel I know less and need to learn more than when I first started.
Can't wait to see what new lessons God will have for me in 2011, when I take my next sabbatical. Til then, it's back to the grindstone . . . but now, with new wisdom obtained from a satisfactory year off.
My sabbatical year is melting away like ice cream on an August day in Philadelphia. On September 2nd, I return to the office and my year of not having to clock in from 9 to 5 will be officially over. Given that I took this year for rest and reflection, it would make sense that I take a little bit of time to consider what I got out of this year at home. So in no particular order are some of the things I've learned about life and about myself in the last 11 1/2 months:
1. Working from home is definitely not a good long-term solution for me. As much as I enjoy having complete freedom and flexibility in my schedule, and as much as I welcome opportunities to work in isolation, I am realizing that I dearly miss the routine of leaving the house in the morning and returning in the evening, and I particularly miss the social aspects of the office environment. No, I won't return to the workplace a converted chatterbox. But I will gladly return to that workplace and to social interactions and water cooler conversations.
2. Life goes on without me. It is at once my proudest achievement and a huge blow to my ego that my youth program has survived, even thrived, in my absence. I am proud of the fact that I have cast the vision for my work and identified and trained my staff sufficiently that the show can go on without me and even raise itself a notch. And it hurts a little to know that I'm perilously dispensible. But it's a good hurt, the healthy kind that gives leaders perspective on what they do and who they are.
3. I enjoy writing but couldn't do it full-time. I've done a ton of writing this year, both business (writing research reports, feasibility studies, and operations manuals) and pleasure (blogging, book manuscripts, and journal entries). It's been a blast to have the time and inspiration to do so. But on the days I've allocated eight hours to write, I'm lucky to get three or four good hours in, before online backgammon and ESPN.com beckon.
4. Drivenness is a sin I will spend my whole life fighting against. Like a messy person who fills a countertop or house no matter how big or small it is, I find activities and pursuits to fill whatever free time I have been given. Having a year away from the office has freed me to take on a lot of these activities and pursuits, like reading books or working on the house or going on road trips. It's been great, but it also speaks to an inability to simply be still. The great ones of faith were not great because of their constant drive towards achievement, but because of their ability to be still before God; they did great things for God out of steady communion with Him, not out of steady striving towards accomplishment.
5. I can be comfortable in my own skin. I've been on this earth for three decades, so you'd think I'd be comfortable in my own skin. Although I know a lot of people twice my age who haven't yet gotten comfortable. I don't think I'm yet comfortable, but I think I've given myself permission to be comfortable. Whether or not I'm liked, whether or not I'm healthy, whether or not I've performed well . . . none of these things need make me any more or less comfortable in my own skin. Daily, I can choose to let externalities govern my identity, or I can anchor myself in something more secure. Like Joshua, may I be able to say everyday, "As for me . . . "
6. There's more to this world than my little slice of it. I've traveled a fair amount and consider myself relatively open-minded and humble, so you'd think I would understand this already. But there was something about taking a step back from putting my nose to the grindstone every day that freed me to look up and see a whole world out there of people and systems and trends and ideas that I'd never knew existed. It's a sobering and terrifying thought, that there's so much in this world that we'll never know, never experience, never have control over. But such is life: to reject this is either to be ignorant or to fight a losing fight of securing mastery over one's world. To accept it may be terrifying, but it is also, paradoxically, freeing. Especially when you believe in an all-powerful and all-loving God who IS in charge of the world in which you live.
7. I have so much more to learn. The truest kind of wisdom is the kind where, once you've learned it, you don't feel like you've mastered something, and therefore you have less to learn. Rather, it is the kind where, once you've learned it, your eyes are open to brand new arenas you weren't previously aware of, and therefore you have more to learn. I feel that way about my job, the Bible, marriage, relationships, and even myself. For all the time I've had to consider all of these and then some, I feel I know less and need to learn more than when I first started.
Can't wait to see what new lessons God will have for me in 2011, when I take my next sabbatical. Til then, it's back to the grindstone . . . but now, with new wisdom obtained from a satisfactory year off.
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