I am blessed enough to have the day after Christmas off. My future wife, who’s a full-time vampire, has to work today. In order to save our daughter from the treachery that is the babysitter, we all decided that she would stay the night at my place.

It’s been a fantastic day. I had time to go for a walk before Jasmine woke up. My brother and his girlfriend came up from Colorado. We all went to lunch at the hospital where Kim works, where we spent a good hour eating and talking casually. We even ran into a few of the church folk who were there to visit Kim’s sister.

On a side note: Jacque (pronounced Jackie), you are in our prayers, and we hope you get over your flu soon. We are all a bit vulnerable right now, otherwise we would have come up to your room to visit.

It’s been a good holiday. It’s been a busy holiday. This is my fourth entry in two days. So where do I find the time?

It’s been a process, definitely. I’ve had to get over my self-taught belief that I’m supposed to finish a blog in one sitting. I do the same thing with the dishes. And that’s exactly why I end up with a pile of dishes at least once a month.

“It’s just one dish. Wash it.”

“Yeah but it’s just one dish. I can do it next time. Two dishes aren’t that much either.”

I completely negate the fact that I can easily do a few, and come back for the rest at a later time. I have to remind myself that it’s allowed.

I do that with a lot of things. I’m convinced that I’m not allowed to take breaks. If I can’t do it all at once, I don’t know how to do it at all. And I have no idea where it came from.

Which is why I decided to sit down in front of this computer at the local library. I get thirty minutes to write. In 6 more minutes, I either save my work, or I lose it all.

It’s exhilarating, really. I tend to write well when it’s do or die.

So how have I found the time to write four blog entries on Christmas and the day after?

I walk away. I focus on what’s in front of me, not what’s in the other room. Or the man who’s singing a song of apology behind me as he walks down the stairwell. I write until my window of opportunity passes. Then I save what I have, and come back to it later.

It’s incredibly simple. And productive. When I can get over myself.

Is it ego? Is it pride? Is it fear? Does it come from some deep-seated childhood trauma that was taught to me by one of the broken adults in my life?

Yes. But that’s okay. Because I am allowed to learn. And I am allowed to heal.

Thirty seconds left. Now ten.

Save draft. And GO!

Wow, I actually got it done…