It is 7:09 on a #wholemama Monday and still I have not blogged about scarcity. I suppose I could blame it on all the other things, the book project I am considering, the secrect project I am woring on, the in person writers group I started, the blog series I am starting, the compost bin I started or the casseroles I am going to attempt to make before going back to school, but that isn’t what this is about, not really. This is really about the thing that it is the absolute hardest for me to believe there is an abundance of. This is about time. My time, and whether or not there will ever be enough.
I am in my last week of summer vacation. We start school early in the south, but we are out by the end of May. If I am being totally honest as a mother, I am ready for my oldest to go back to school. She is ready too. As a teacher I am going to need another month or so to finish all the things I spent all year saying I would do this summer. It seems like summer vacation always comes up short.
Like weekends. How are weekends burned through as quickly as that? Two work days, it seems to me, are at least twice as long as a weekend. It seems to me there is a never ending list of things that need to be done and a very very short amount of time to do them. How is that possible? I get freaked out when I think about time, it is probably the most precious resource at our house. With me writing a book proposal and my husband beginning his dissertation, how is everyone going to get writing time is a near constant conversation we have.
To top it all off I am sick. After waking up and working on art, running a secret project errand and taking the girls to the pool I am lying in bed unable to do anything more. I think it is a sinus infection. I am unhappy. I feel like something has been stolen from me, part of my last precious week.
The sermon was on sabbath this week, about why we needed it and how to do it well. The sabbath is almost always the first thing I cut when I am feeling short on time. But really that is probably when I need to do it. At the end of the sermon the metaphor we use, about spending time and time is money came up. My husband raised his eyebrows at me.
My man is into metaphors, as a rhetorician he talks about how our language helps construct our reality and how we have to be careful about the boxes we draw ourselves into with our metaphors. I wasn’t sure about all of it until we stopped thinking about arguments as war and started thinking about them as a dance. We don’t have losers anymore in conflict in our marriage, we instead make sure no one is stepping on anyone elses toes. Metaphors, they matter.
And time is not something I own. I don’t get to hoard it, save it, spend it. It just is. It just goes, and there is a time for everything. Maybe not as much as I want all the time, and certainly not at the times I want all the time (like getting up two hours before everyone else to write totally sucks. I make the dog get up with me.) But I am learning to trust an abundant God when I am told there is a time for it all. I am learning about radical enough as it comes to my time. Even summer vacation.
I am learning that abundance has nothing to do with me and what I can and cannot control. I am learning to lean into enough time. Even when that enough is running out.
Love Bombs are back to their regularly scheduled program! (Sorry I was a little late on the email last week.)So drop me a comment that you are in and I will email you her twitter handle so we can all tell her on Friday how great she is!