I have a secret. Sometimes I skip church. I shoo my kids into the van with super husband and watch out the window as they drive away. Here is what I am not going to do while they are gone—carve out time to work on my novel, crawl back into my fleece sheets for another two hours of much-needed sleep, or click on the TV to watch my favorite show. Let me paint a picture of my Sunday morning. After the Honda’s backside veers left on Quail Creek, I open all the curtains in the kitchen and family room, get the coffee going, light my twisted peppermint candle, and slip into…