Friday, May 27, 2016
time management
I came home to a quiet house, after dropping my kids off with their dad for the extended weekend. On my way in from the garage, I opened the freezer to grab the tray of rhubarb pieces that I had laid out, single layer, on a tray. I prepared to transfer the frozen pieces into a plastic bag. After the tray had been cleared, I noticed little frost squares that had been left behind around where the rhubarb pieces had sat. I suddenly had a brief chilled feeling, akin to loneliness. I inwardly sighed and thought, I'm gonna miss those kids. With the long weekend, I wouldn't get to see them till Monday evening. Now don't get me wrong, I do treasure the quiet, alone times, especially when I haven't really had any quiet for over a month. But when you really care about someone and enjoy spending time with them, you kinda miss them when they're gone, even if they're only gone for a little bit.
I finished clearing the tray of rhubarb and just stood there for a second, looking at the empty tray covered in little square frost spots. It kind of looked like a calendar with all its squares except that there were probably 75 little squares; a very busy calendar indeed.
And then I had to wonder, does God miss me when I'm gone? Does He look ahead at my schedule and calendar and sigh, I'm gonna miss her for the next few days. Cause when you really care about someone and enjoy spending time with them, you kinda miss them when they're gone, even if they're only gone for a little bit. And the truth is, when I get extra busy, the loyal relationships in my life take a back seat for a little while.
I looked around at the rest of the kitchen and evaluated the work I still had to do. It's all fun stuff; preparing produce to pack into the fridge for the week, making frosting for cupcakes and other things. But it felt like God was longing to spend a little time with me, instead. So I stepped away from the tasks and found my place with Him for a while. And I was glad I did. I bet He missed me when I was so busy.
Last week, I was standing in the canned food aisle at Costco and was trying to figure out if I should spend $6 on a case of black beans or just can my own, as I would prefer to do. $6 isn't much but canning your own is even cheaper plus there's no waste from the cans. But it is a bit of a chore, presoaking the beans, par-cooking, and then pressure canning them. I was talking to myself and muttering, "Should I save time or save money?" My daughter piped up, "Save time! And then you can spend more time with ME!" Well, that settled it. I put the case of beans in my cart and walked away.
I think it's helpful to recognize that God feels the same way my daughter does. So many times, I make choices to invest more time in something because it's more economical or environmental or whatever. And it's good to be conscious of both the world and our finances, but not at the expense of our time with those we love: God, our children, our families, our friends.
I've been so busy lately. I've actually been busy reevaluating the use of my time and I gotta tell you, I have adjustments that I can definitely make. And I'm making them. And you know what? I've gotten more accomplished in the last few days than I have in a while. Yes, I'm constantly busy, but I'm busy with more of the right kind of stuff. And it feels more rewarding and satisfying and fulfilling. I'm still struggling with the idea of giving up some stuff that is important to me but I think I'll figure this out soon, hopefully.
It certainly wouldn't hurt to periodically visit my schedule and my time management and make sure I'm focused on what really matters. So help me, God, to have the wisdom and honesty to identify the distractions in my life that are keeping me from the priorities. And then to have the will to live within the newfound perspectives.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
stillness
Do you ever feel like you can't keep up with certain things? Like household tasks and responsibilities seem to be stacking up faster than you can complete them? Every now and again I feel that way. But I suppose that I never really take the time to reflect on why that happens. I just push through it and say goodbye to sleep while I play catch-up. And then I'm good for a while.
Tonight I decided I wouldn't sleep until I got caught up in several areas of my life and so it's past 10 o'clock and I'm not even close to resolving the mess. I still have quite a bit to do and probably won't go to bed until about midnight. But as I went out to the front porch to clean up the shoes that had stacked up out there, I heard the rocking chairs quietly inviting me to sit for a spell. So I thought, Sure, why not? Just for 5 minutes. I figured it was just a place to sit for a bit. I had no idea that I would be surrounded by stillness, quietude and restoration.
As I rest in this rocker, the warm night air seems to envelop me in a sympathetic embrace. The melody of the chirping crickets is complimented by the harmony of the croaking frogs. The bugs at a distance dance around the glow of the street lamp in time with the night music. And every now and again, a restless fly whizzes by. I can't see him in the dark but I can hear him and feel him as I try to swat him away. The trees stand quietly, surrounded by shadows, as a hint of a breeze sneaks past them, ruffling their leaves in the most gentle way. The sidewalks are vacant and the concrete is still mildly warm from the sun beating down on them earlier today. I haven't seen a single car pass by in the entire 20 minutes that I've been out here. But I have seen one shadowy figure walk down a driveway, a few houses down, carrying a small box. My neighbor's shades are drawn but I can see a faint silhouette moving across the room. I wonder if they have any idea how this night air can make a person get all poetic.
I like how everything is black and white in the dark. I love how it is only in the path of the light that I can observe and register the colors. I see varying shades of green in the trees that are spotlighted by the street lamps. I see grey asphalt and yellow street lines. I see a haze of purple across the sky, remnants from what I'm sure was a stunning sunset. It is all so peaceful and restorative and I'm so glad I took the time to sit here, if only for half an hour. I am trying to absorb as much of this stillness as I can because I know what is waiting for me inside.
My heart is quite content. I have everything I would need in this moment. And yet, I can't help but wonder what it would feel like if Jesus, Himself, was sitting in the rocker next to me. I turned the rocker towards me a little bit and registered the emptiness of the chair. Can you imagine? Can you even imagine taking a work break with Jesus, resting in the rocking chairs, listening to the symphony of frog and crickets and lights and colors and shadows and breezes? Would He put His legs up on the railing like I do? Would He hold my hand as we rocked, in silence?
I have a lot of things I would like to say to Jesus. But in these moments of rest, I'm quite content to just sit in His presence and breathe. The idea of such restfulness puts a smile on my face because it has already taken place.
Sometimes... being with Jesus is just being aware of His presence, acknowledging His gift in the beauty that surrounds us. And sometimes that's enough. Tomorrow He'll teach me something new. But tonight - right now - He just wants to sit with me. And that's just lovely.
Tonight I decided I wouldn't sleep until I got caught up in several areas of my life and so it's past 10 o'clock and I'm not even close to resolving the mess. I still have quite a bit to do and probably won't go to bed until about midnight. But as I went out to the front porch to clean up the shoes that had stacked up out there, I heard the rocking chairs quietly inviting me to sit for a spell. So I thought, Sure, why not? Just for 5 minutes. I figured it was just a place to sit for a bit. I had no idea that I would be surrounded by stillness, quietude and restoration.
That's not actually a picture of me. I just found it online. But I liked it because that's exactly how I am sitting, with my legs up on the railing, in the dark (yet with a computer on my lap).
As I rest in this rocker, the warm night air seems to envelop me in a sympathetic embrace. The melody of the chirping crickets is complimented by the harmony of the croaking frogs. The bugs at a distance dance around the glow of the street lamp in time with the night music. And every now and again, a restless fly whizzes by. I can't see him in the dark but I can hear him and feel him as I try to swat him away. The trees stand quietly, surrounded by shadows, as a hint of a breeze sneaks past them, ruffling their leaves in the most gentle way. The sidewalks are vacant and the concrete is still mildly warm from the sun beating down on them earlier today. I haven't seen a single car pass by in the entire 20 minutes that I've been out here. But I have seen one shadowy figure walk down a driveway, a few houses down, carrying a small box. My neighbor's shades are drawn but I can see a faint silhouette moving across the room. I wonder if they have any idea how this night air can make a person get all poetic.
I like how everything is black and white in the dark. I love how it is only in the path of the light that I can observe and register the colors. I see varying shades of green in the trees that are spotlighted by the street lamps. I see grey asphalt and yellow street lines. I see a haze of purple across the sky, remnants from what I'm sure was a stunning sunset. It is all so peaceful and restorative and I'm so glad I took the time to sit here, if only for half an hour. I am trying to absorb as much of this stillness as I can because I know what is waiting for me inside.
My heart is quite content. I have everything I would need in this moment. And yet, I can't help but wonder what it would feel like if Jesus, Himself, was sitting in the rocker next to me. I turned the rocker towards me a little bit and registered the emptiness of the chair. Can you imagine? Can you even imagine taking a work break with Jesus, resting in the rocking chairs, listening to the symphony of frog and crickets and lights and colors and shadows and breezes? Would He put His legs up on the railing like I do? Would He hold my hand as we rocked, in silence?
I have a lot of things I would like to say to Jesus. But in these moments of rest, I'm quite content to just sit in His presence and breathe. The idea of such restfulness puts a smile on my face because it has already taken place.
Sometimes... being with Jesus is just being aware of His presence, acknowledging His gift in the beauty that surrounds us. And sometimes that's enough. Tomorrow He'll teach me something new. But tonight - right now - He just wants to sit with me. And that's just lovely.
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