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I am up. At the moment, that is about as good as it gets.
Some days, up and in my chair at the computer is a victory. When the morning dawns with rain (again) and all that comes with the rain—the pain, the cloudy head, the melancholy and malaise that hangs in the air—it is all I can do to not crawl back into bed after dropping my children off at school and slip back into the stupor of sleep. But not today.
Today I fight it, mug of tea in hand, the smell of pomegranate and the sound of raindrops reminding me of my first morning at the Convent. I sigh, remembering the promise of a full week of nothing but writing ahead of me, remembering that this current week holds very little time for such endeavors, that life holds very little time at all…
I was talking with a friend yesterday about time. We acknowledged that we all have the same, insufficient 24 hours available to us, yet some accomplish so much in that time and some so little. What accounts for the difference?
The difference, I believe, is not in what we do with that time but what we don’t do with that time. When you’ve already weeded out of your life all (or at least most) of that which is superfluous, you find yourself faced with choices, not between what is a good or bad use of your time, but between what is a good or better use of your time. Women like The Pioneer Woman or Ann Voskamp or Dooce—who not only write full time but also parent and perhaps homeschool and on top of that do miraculous, other-worldly things like cook and bake and plant things and nurture things and take pictures and then teach their children all of the above and more—these women have the same 24 hours in their day that I do. What are they not doing with their time?
My friend commented she’d spent the entire weekend spring cleaning and washing their windows. I laughed—that’s where her 24 hours are going, I told her. “So, if I lived in filth, I’d accomplish something with my life?” she asked jokingly in response. I laughed even harder. Because the answer is no. I’ve not washed my windows once in the nearly ten years we’ve lived in this house, and I’m still not any closer to publication. I’m just staring out the window wondering whether the haze is from the weather or from the glass, that’s all. So what is the answer?
Today, what I’m not doing with my time is sleeping. Cocooning back into my sheets and escaping into unconsciousness. The caffeine is kicking in, and the choice is feeling slightly easier. But the pillow still calls me, and I’ve not quite drowned out her voice yet…
It’s the days when the choice is less obvious that challenge me. When I’m sick but I have given myself a deadline. When my children want my time but I’ve not accomplished my goals for the week. When I have an hour uninterrupted and I must choose between getting some writing done or doing some housekeeping or working out. When my husband would like me to pay even the tiniest bit of attention to him but I’ve not posted anything for three days. Good or better? Which is which? Each choice comes at a cost to something else. How do you choose?
Sarah Young writes, in the May 18th reading from Jesus Calling, “Come to Me with your plans held in abeyance… Trust Me enough to let Me guide you through this day, accomplishing My purposes in My timing. Subordinate your myriad plans to My Master Plan. I am sovereign over every aspect of your life! The challenge continually before you is to trust Me and search for My way throughout each day” (emphasis mine).
The challenge, indeed. This trust does not come easy for me–planning is a much more natural pathway within my brain. I am quick to take it, yet also quick to leave it, pulled off track by the demands of another, still clinging to my map, pointing in the other direction from where I’m headed.
This struggle to yield the map and compass and trust the direction God is taking in our lives is not new. Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight (Proverbs 3:5-6). It is an age-old battle, fought on a daily basis throughout what we finite humans know as time. But there is One Who Knows Better, who is beyond time, who will guide our steps if we will only yield the map and consent to follow him, even if we are certain the peak we are seeking is in the other direction.
Trust. Yield. Surrender. Follow.
This is my prayer. For my heart. For yours.
And for those upon whom our obedience depend…
This morning, I am up. I am at my computer, caffeinated beverage in hand, and I am writing.
As for what is next, well, I haven’t heard that yet. But I will wait.
And, God-willing, I will follow.
It is always a struggle, isn’t it? I fight daily to maintain balance between working, writing, and being in and enjoying my life and all the moments I’ll miss if I’m too busy focusing on what I want to or should be doing next. And I’m trying really hard at the end of each day to focus not on what I didn’t do, but what I did instead : ).
That’s a great reminder, hawleyville (unless, of course, I got NOTHING accomplished that day!)…
The balance issue is so difficult–I am reminded that there are thousands of women who do it and make it work, but I can’t help but wonder, “at what cost?”