When there is always one more thing I could get done …
When my iphone calendar severely lacks open white spaces ...
When decorating, wrapping, cleaning, and shopping take priority over smiling, laughing, breathing, and memory making …
When my goal becomes surviving each day rather than living each day …
When my line of vision looks past the people and only sees the duties …
When my day is so packed that my blessings get covered up …
When failure hangs like fog over the sacred spaces of my home and heart.
That's when I miss out on the love. I miss out on the greatest part of living: To love and be loved.
Today I was in the middle of making dinner and my oldest son was studying for his final. His laptop was open, his phone was buzzing, and I was thinking about all the things I needed to do that day. Unexpectedly, I looked up and noticed my son—I mean, really noticed him. A little voice said, “There is nothing more important than being with him right now.” Without turning down the stove, without thinking about my packed agenda, without even glancing at the clock, I left that half-made dinner on the counter to go to my son. As soon as my body hit the couch cushions, my son immediately drew to my side like a magnet. It was there, while he was showing me his 110% in Chemistry, that the most wondrous thing happened. My son went downstairs to his room and brought me a mug with the letter B on it, that he made for me that day at school and placed it in my hand. I closed my eyes to rejoice in that moment realizing that this—this pausing while the rest of the world keeps going—is living.
