I used to pride myself on traits like responsibility and punctuality. Then, I became a mother and soon realized that you can only hold tight the traits that your newborn also reveres. Hint: Babies don’t care about responsibility, or punctuality, or really any other word with more than one syllable.
Out the window flew pieces of my identity. Who I had been for 26 years was not who I suddenly faced in the mirror each morning, and even more alarming: I couldn’t envision a future where the pieces of my old self returned to me either! Not only did I have to get to know a whole new human being, but I had to rediscover myself as well!
Tonight I repeated the usual as my daughter and I got ready for bed, “We’re already past bed time, we need to hurry!” Every night we hurry. Time slips away, the minutes tick on, and inevitably we are speeding through the bedtime routine once again.
This happens many times throughout the day-to-day shuffle. We rush off to church at the last second; we dash to the babysitter’s each morning as fast as traffic will allow. We zoom through each hour, and stage, and phase with eyes only on the next hurdle.
I realize though, that it’s me. I am the one kicking the horse in the ribs; the one with the need for speed. I realize that I’m alone in that.
There is no reason for me to be rushing along, and I guess I only do it because I think it might get me on course to the old me, the girl who was punctual.
But as I consider this, I realize… all the times that I’ve had to wait for something in life… all the drawn out lessons God has given me about patience… all the days I’ve taken it easy… all the moments that I have savored slowly…. stand out as the best times that I’ve ever had.
Tonight really made me laugh. Who put the time constraints on the bedtime routine? Me. Who is always stressing because of the time constraints? Me.
Time will be there, whether we’re here or not. There is no need to zip around on autopilot, in fact, there is a lot of need to do the opposite. How much I must be missing! How much my daughter must be missing!
Not only do I need to consciously slow down, I also need to remember that I am not who I once was. That is a beautiful truth in so many other ways, so why can’t punctuality slide in there as well?
Why would it be so wrong to be the lady who is always running late? Maybe it’s just a matter of semantics. Please refer to me as the lady who always lingered an extra minute to savor the sweetness of life.