These days in May seem to spin so fast I want to cry, "Mayday! Somebody help!" The hours whirl by in a blur, and sometimes I fear I'll reach the end of this season and wonder if any of it mattered. Team parties and recitals and concerts and swim practice . . . and, Oh! We have a meeting tomorrow night. Do you think you can come? And I crawl into bed exhausted and wonder: How did we spend our time? Did we invest our attention and our efforts in anything that will last? Did we sacrifice the important on the altar of urgency? Did any of it matter?
But I find that it's true - what Ann says:
Marking these moments from the week:
1209 first day of swim team - ever!
1210 firstborn swimming all those laps in her bright pink cast
1211 flowers from my yard in little vases on the counter
1212 blooms by the backdoor
1213 getting her cast off
1214 boy-child wanting to be right in the middle of everything
1215 husband teaching Bible study
1216 a coach who encourages and calls her by name
1217 morning shade across the back patio
1218 rooting plants
1219 cleaning up the flower baskets for spring
1220 hearing her play piano again
1221 watching my boy-child teach his friend how to dive
1222 looking through pictures from the season
1223 watching her try again and again...and watching her "get it"
1224 all those boys splashing in the pool, laughing hard
1225 sitting around the table sharing stories of God's faithfulness
1226 carpooling to practice
1227 sweet tea
1228 full moon in a clear night sky
But I find that it's true - what Ann says:
Time is a relentless river. It rages on, a respecter of no one. And this, this is the only way to slow time: When I fully enter time's swift current, enter into the current moment with the weight of all my attention, I slow the torrent with the weight of me all here. I can slow the torrent by being all here. I only live the full life when I live fully in the moment. And when I'm always looking for the next glimpse of glory, I slow and enter. And time slows. Weigh down this moment in time with attention full, and the whole of time's river slows, slows, slows . . . Giving thanks for one thousand things is ultimately an invitation to slow time down with the weight of full attention. - Ann Voskamp, One Thousand GiftsAnd so I continue daily to ask the Lord to open my eyes to the wonder of the moment. Because we won't remember the days; but the moments we mark will last.
Marking these moments from the week:
1209 first day of swim team - ever!
1210 firstborn swimming all those laps in her bright pink cast
1211 flowers from my yard in little vases on the counter
1212 blooms by the backdoor
1213 getting her cast off
1214 boy-child wanting to be right in the middle of everything
1215 husband teaching Bible study
1216 a coach who encourages and calls her by name
1217 morning shade across the back patio
1218 rooting plants
1219 cleaning up the flower baskets for spring
1220 hearing her play piano again
1221 watching my boy-child teach his friend how to dive
1222 looking through pictures from the season
1223 watching her try again and again...and watching her "get it"
1224 all those boys splashing in the pool, laughing hard
1225 sitting around the table sharing stories of God's faithfulness
1226 carpooling to practice
1227 sweet tea
1228 full moon in a clear night sky
The LORD directs the steps of the godly.
He delights in every detail of their lives.
Psalm 37:23, NLT