There did seem to be a new
wholeness to my life. Home and work were
part of my one life, not separate worlds.
(I see now that this prepared me well for the world in which we now
live, in which e-mail and the Internet are a constant presence, respecting no
boundaries of time or place.) I have
felt that this wholeness was a positive result and one for which I am
thankful. Yet it hardly seemed the kind
of dramatic conclusion I wanted that year to have.
I had learned through my
sabbatical that dreams come true. For
many years afterwards my biggest challenge seemed to be the need to find a new
dream, one worthy enough to risk losing my current life. For awhile I was confused. After our return I scanned the ads in The
Wall Street Journal for employment opportunities that would bring me back to
London. It took awhile, but I finally
realized that being part of a competitive legal community in London was not a
real dream. Days turned to weeks and
then months. My practice picked up. I even had an incredible job offer to go in-house
with a local Las Vegas company. After
much soul searching, I turned it down; mostly, I think, because it would have
impinged on my independence and freedom to dream.
Our home life changed quite a
bit. Cathy was way more depressed than
me at being back home, but focused her energies on the children. After one more year at Our Lady of Las Vegas
elementary school, the children were enrolled at the Las Vegas Day School—the closest
thing we could find to approximate St. John's.
It was a financial stretch—more than that, however, the thought had
never crossed my mind that our children would not attend Catholic elementary
school. It took me some time getting
used to, but we were extremely satisfied with our choice as the years went by
and the children moved on from LVDS to high school. Thomas became a member of the first group of
students to spend 10 years at the Day School, from pre-K to 8th grade. I may not have realized it at the time, but perhaps
in a way our children became my dream—particularly as each of them moved on to
the challenges of high school and going away to college.
I had always wanted to publish my
Sabbatical Diary as the story of the planning and the living of a year abroad. What stopped me, whenever I picked up the
task, was the end of the Diary. More
than half of the book is a travelogue, the story of our journey together as we
crossed the US, settled down in Saffron Walden and traveled on holiday
throughout Western Europe. The end of
the Diary contains so many personal reflections that I hesitated to make it
public, mostly for fear of boring my reader, but a little bit because it was so
personal. I started again last summer,
sharing our travel story with the children on Facebook, and taking the time to
add photos—something I wouldn't have known what to do just a few years
ago. Thomas graduated from college in May, 2011 and
I thought it would be fun for them all to read about their year abroad,
especially things they might have otherwise forgotten. (Some parts, for example, Mara's rescue of
Thomas in Vicksburg, have always been part of our known family history.)
After I had been posting entries for
several weeks on Facebook for just the family, it occurred to me that I could
publish the entire Diary on the Internet, so I started over again, this time as
a blog. At some point it occurred to me
that I was revisiting our trip on its 20th anniversary and as I got well
into the posts the important thing seemed to be to complete the diary, not stop
when it grew too personal.
As I started to think of how to
conclude my book, I first thought that I should write of the lessons I learned,
how I felt when we returned and other nice ways to wrap up the story. Later I realized there was perhaps a more
simple conclusion. The realization occurred
to me that there are enough truths and wisdom in those many last entries to
last me a lifetime. Thoughts expressed
on paper, typed and posted—as I have revisited each of them I have thought,
yes, that's right, I had forgotten about that!
Several years ago during an
advent or lent Bible study class, the priest conducting the class said something
that has stayed with me ever since: Our lives echo the journey of the
Israelites to the Promised Land; we journey from slavery to freedom; like Moses
we can see the Promised Land but never get there during our lives. We continue to search for spiritual meaning
and truths in our lives, thinking if only we can grasp that one essential thing
we will have it made, we will get it.
When I read my journal, I realize that I get it, or, rather, I got it—yet
I am no closer to the Promised Land than I was twenty years ago (in terms of spiritual
achievement not age!). Life goes on, day
by day, sunrise by sunrise, each day different and the same. In my case, I am accompanied by my beloved
companions, my wife and children—and now son in law and grandchildren. May each of us always be open to the truths and gifts
that life offers!
January 2012
