Life happens today

The timeline of life is sometimes a thing to be grasped. We're born, we grow up, and we cease to be. For most, that progression occurs over decades; for others, that time is seemingly too short. Yet, no matter the lifespan of any one individual, we all share the common thread of time. Twenty-four hours in a day, seven days in a week, and three hundred and sixty-five days in a year. How is it, then, that a month or a year can pass us by so quickly? How many times have you asked, "Where has the time gone?"

The answer is simple. Life happens, time passes, in the moments. It is in the mundane and the extraordinary, the quiet and the chaotic, the sweet and the sorrowful that our life unfolds. I think if we could truly frame each moment of our day as worthwhile, we might live out our days differently.

I've been wresting this concept for weeks. Often times I get too carried away by the items on my agenda and the demands of life that I neglect the art of living and the blessing of being alive. I navigate through the week by going and doing and completing and achieving and acting and intervening, and then meet the weekend with a sense of exhaustion and dread. Monday always rolls back around and I often feel as though I've depleted all my energy, but incurred no substantial gains. It's an endless, vicious cycle, and I found I had to deal with it before it wasted me.

Somehow, I feel like I'm not alone. The advertisement industry has made billions from our "Western way of life." Just yesterday I was half listening to a commercial promising to eliminate the stress of preparing dinner with one simple meal gadget. "Feed your family, fast, with this new thingy-ma-bob, and you'll have extra time to spend on those  more important things that lack." It struck me wrong. I wrote a college essay once about the importance of the family dinner table, and my opinion hasn't waivered; husbands and wives and moms and dads and kids need to eat at least one meal together each day, period. Why is it that American families allow themselves to become so pressed for time that "more important things" trump honest communion with the ones we love? What is that thing that steals your moments?

You must understand my intentions; I'm not attacking busy lifestyles...I live one. I simply think we're losing so much life and vitality in between the pages of our day timers. I think our love, drive, and service are misguided. I think it's okay to admit that we can't do it all. I think we need to give ourselves permission to thrive instead of merely navigating through life in survival mode.

To help manage the juggle, I've implemented a few "house rules," which I gleaned from Kerri Weems book Rhythms of Grace. For the record, it's totally worth the read.

1. I disable the e-mail on my phone when I'm done working for the day. Our business is across several time zones, so cutting everyone off at 5pm central isn't exactly feasible; however, putting a start and stop time on my e-mail responses has freed up more of my evenings
2. I set daily goals- not unrealistic goals or a rigid to-do list, but a manageable list of things I'd like to accomplish. This keeps me focused while simultaneously freeing me from the from the relentless striving with which I'm too familiar. Once I've tackled everything on the list, I allow myself to relax instead of forcing myself to get ahead. I think it's also worth mentioning that I list a bedtime as the "end all" goal of the day. Whatever doesn't get finished gets rearranged, and I still get sleep. It's a beautiful setup.
3. I try to set aside one day where I don't have any goals. It's called "rest," and I think God had it right when He took a day off. If we're being honest, this whole concept intimidates me greatly, and it's still very much "in process," but I'm gravitating more towards it everyday. I can say with complete assurance that I don't regret a single day I've taken to rest, or at least not in retrospect. It's hard to say no. It's hard to be still. It's hard not to feel wasteful while sitting on the front porch soaking in sunshine and reading a good book, but it's redemptive, energizing, and restorative to my often times overwhelmed heart.

Life is a gamble, folks, and time is our great wager. May you and I play our cards well.