At vacation Bible camp next week, the boys will get three hours a day of craft projects, hymn sings and Jesus-yness while I get three hours a day of... solitude?!?!?!?
Christian formation for them, a few hours off for me. What (as my dear Jewish friend from New York would say) could be bad?
Three hours is enough time for a pedicure. For a bible study. For a morning of coffee on the front porch. With a friend.
Three hours is a potent amount of time.
As any good kabbalist knows, numbers have meaning.
I remember, even before becoming a Christian, when I was just beginning to get Jesus-envy in a big way, I met an online friend at a conference and when I discovered he was 33, my heart skipped a beat. Jesus was 33, I thought to myself. Jesus was exactly that age when his earthly ministry came to an end. 33, for me, will never be the same.
3 hours is the amount of time I sit in church on Good Friday.
3 hours might be enough time to collect my thoughts.
Do the laundry.
Weed the garden.
Change the world.