OK, so this week I learned a good lesson about the dangers of packing my schedule too tightly. I had been tracking some mood changes that seem to be appearing in connection with certain changes of life, and recognized that I was going to be in my "vulnerable time" (that's a nice way of saying it) during a week fully loaded with women's events, appointments with doctors, editors and business people, a birthday party for my 91-year-old aunt and all the lessons and details that are simply part of day-to-day life with the Bishops.

For five days, in between and during these events, I was foggy, tired, emotional, angry, on edge, overwhelmed, depressed and uptight (I know, because I wrote all these words down as I was feeling them just to remember that they had actually happened).

Good advice from a friend comes back to me: "All these symptoms are a natural part of getting older. Your best defense is to track them if you can and prepare for them by keeping your schedule easier during those days."

But doing this makes me so mad. I used to be able to do so many things at once—now I can forget the smallest, or most obvious details. I feel betrayed and rebellious. I don't want to have to slow down!

This all feeds into my lack of understanding when it omes to what rest is and why I need it. Rest? Why? There is so much to do and I just don't have time for it! But at this stage of life, my body is telling me, "Rest, or you're going to be in bad shape before long!"

So I am learning. My next "vulnerable time" is during a trip home to Dad's, and I'll have plenty of space there to avoid over-scheduling. But in another month, I'll be in Nigeria while I'm experiencing symptoms. Great fun! Hopefully just the "knowing" that the moods and restless anxiety will pass will help as I muddle through whatever speaking or travellng or sleeping (or lack thereof) I'll be doing at the time.

Last night my oldest daughter and I came home from dance class to find Dad and Sis ready with a beautiful meal and classical music playing on the Internet. We sat around the table, talked and laughed, and had a wonderful time that made me once again aware of the great family life I enjoy. After supper, I did some dishes and listened to my husband strum a new dulcimer (the latest addition to his instrument collection) while my daughter got cleaned up fom dance class. I put on a kettle of water, and got out the tea set. It was time to initiate that Ukrainian tradition again of sitting around in the evening drinking tea.

A pot of tea (the tea a gift from a Ukrainian friend)and many Oreos and tea cookies later, it was bedtime, and all four of us bundled into our bed for the last chapter of Wind in the Willows, which we've been picking up at bedtime lately. We work crossword and sudoku puzzles afterward, reading the Bible, saying good-night prayers, mom drifting off first and ordering children to bed. What a wonderful evening of rest and true contentment. (Before you start thinking we're the perfect family, I must interject that nights like this are, for us, rare. Many more nights have been spent in front of a screen or running around Orlando like chickens, and collapsing, exhausted, into our beds.)

If you're familiar with Wind in the Willows, you'll know that Toad is quite a character, pompus, impulsive, greedy and unwise (and thus so much fun to read about!). But in the final chapter, Toad makes a change. He begins to turn over a new leaf and really think of others first after years of selfishness. But he had been as he was for so long, that the reader still feels suspicious of his new attitude. Change is desperately hard to accomplish, for Toad … and for us.

But if there's hope for Mr. Toad, maybe there is hope for me. Maybe I can rest. Maybe I can put up with the changes of life and even be able to be thankful for the new perspective. Maybe today I can take one more step towards contentment and away from the rat race. May it be so, for me and for you, with God's help.