Our family has always been intentionally under-scheduled. When our kids were little we didn’t want to keep them busy with classes and practices and other events – however fun or wonderful – because we wanted them to have plenty of downtime.
We also wanted flexibility and simplicity and the beauty of a slow childhood. We wanted nightly family dinners and time to relax and reconnect after a busy day at school or work.
We knew that wouldn’t last, of course. We understood they’d eventually develop interests and have the discipline and coordination and maturity to engage in new activities in a meaningful way. And while the frequency of commitments has progressively increased over the last couple of years, it’s hit a new level this summer.
And I am tired.
Don’t get me wrong. I love watching my kids lean into their passions. And I completely understand that part of motherhood is self-sacrifice. I don’t expect to do everything I want to do. I know that some of my own interests will be deferred to later years when our nest is empty, and that my time now is focused on my children.
But what I didn’t expect was how this new, busy schedule has seemingly sucked the joy out of everything. Even good things have simply become items to check off my to-do list. I give myself guilt because I didn’t sneak in a quick paddleboard on the weekend. My Bible-reading feels fruitless and obligatory. All day long I go from one task to the next – some must-dos, some may-dos, some want-to-dos – but they’ve all lost a bit of their luster. I find it impossible to fully enjoy anything because I’m always mentally preparing for the next event on the calendar.
It all seemed to peak this past weekend. I was done, the kids were toast, and we were watching church on YouTube because my son was packing last-minute for a week-long camp. And though sermons these days don’t seem to hit the way they used to (probably because my mind is constantly ticking through the to-dos), this one did.
“Jesus was never in a hurry.”
The statement caught my attention. But then my cynical mind started responding: “Jesus also never had to get kids to baseball games and orthodontist appointments and gymnastics.”
“Jesus was never in a hurry. The people around him were, but he wasn’t.”
I took a breath and let it sink into my soul. Chauffeuring my kids around is not more important than the work Jesus was doing. And the places where he was going had needs just as great as the places where he was. It wasn’t about the next thing.
It was about the right now.
But as piercing as that message was to my heart, we all know it’s easier said than done. Wanting to be present doesn’t mean your mind doesn’t wander to the next item on the agenda. A desire to cast off the anxiety of all the things on your upcoming to-do doesn’t mean it disappears overnight. Longing for your prayer or quiet time to feel deep and meaningful doesn’t guarantee it will be.
So I decided to do something. Because just wanting to not be stressed about my schedule wasn’t going to make it so. Instead, I needed to practice. I needed to retrain my brain to stop for awhile and not jump to the next thing. I needed to remind my body what it felt like to not be in a state of constant anticipation, to slow down and just be.
So every day I set a timer for 30 minutes. I go outside to my back deck, my husband comes with me, and we talk. Or just sit. But what we don’t do is discuss our schedule or child-ferrying logistics or anything else that is related to the to-do list. When we’re outside we don’t have chores staring us in the face (hey, laundry pile on the couch!) or the temptation of a TV or the constant stimulation of noise or music or whatever is happening inside.
It’s a peaceful place, for a peaceful half-hour, reminding my mind & body what it feels like to be at peace. Just this simple exercise has made the rest of the day less frenetic. It’s funny how adding this extra half-hour task has made my day less stressful. But the key is that there is no agenda.
Not even a good one.
It makes me more present now as I go through my day. I have more joy during both the “have-to”s and the “get-to”s. My quiet times are more fruitful. My prayer times are less distracted. I’m less irritable with my kids.
Practice makes perfect, and sometimes we have to practice being peaceful before we can actually implement it. As much as we want our bodies to achieve it, sometimes we have to remind ourselves what it feels like first.
Jesus was never in a hurry. He was fully present and at peace right where He was in the moment. And with a little practice, maybe we can be, too.
PIN THIS!
Read more of Kristina’s contributions to AllMomDoes here.
