Oxymorons…you gotta love them. Verbally puzzling expressions that stop and make you think, because they just don’t go together.

Today, I am headed 8 hours south into the mountains of North Carolina to a retreat center at Lake Junaluska. There may be more beautiful and restful places than this, but I don’t know them.

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Alas, as I prepare to depart many things clamber for my attention: things from home, things from work, things with a deadline. As I load up the car I ponder the oxymoron I am currently embarking upon: a working retreat. 

I heft the last bag of provisions for the week onto the floor of the back seat. In it are my bottle of wine, two cups, and the old bread I have been saving to feed the ducks who are sure to greet us upon our arrival.

“Bread and wine?” my daughter says smugly from the passenger seat.

All I need.