Sitting in a quiet house with a thick fog rolling through, the Christmas lights are on, and I can hear the girls playing upstairs. The year is winding down, but work demands and daughterly expectations are ascending—all good things. The only danger is that I listen to the wrong clamor, that the things that pull me may not be the most important or represent the best use of my time. I resist taking a clinical approach to prioritization or being. I just want life to flow and for my people, at work and at home, to be happy. Sigh. A few days ago it finally snowed, the girls went wild, in fact Briar woke early after a nightmare and as I cradled her in…