As I was finishing the last of my four thousand nightly chores this evening, I had a sudden revelation of the horrible kind--the sort that makes your throat tighten and stops you mid-movement.
I realized that I have been burning days, possibly YEARS on things that are not really necessary, squandering thousands of precious evenings which could have been spent in conversations, tickle fights, poetry reading, star gazing, music making, hand-holding, puzzles, quiet contemplation--the list is endless.
And sickening.
I have willingly traded hours of relationship building with my family for a parade of upper middle class STUFF and the obligations that go with it. I spend more time changing the filters on my pile of gadgets, cleaning grumph out of the crevices of my shower doors, moving piles of paper from one stack to another, and de-scaling kitchen appliances than I spend really basking in the delights of my family.
I realize that this may sound strange since, as a homeschooling mom, I am face to face with children all day long. I am not discounting those hours, but most of the time they are structured hours, very task oriented, often rushed or interrupted. Purpose driven, boxed up, and checked off.
What I am lamenting is the loss of the those long, languorous evenings, where minutes drip slowly off the clock, and there is time to let the children come out with all beautiful wonderings that were born in their minds that day.
I want them to have time to be bored--and Jamey and me along with them--and then someone could say, "Let's make up a play!" and we would have time to actually do it. Or we could all just sit on the floor and build towers with Jude while Rebekah read to us. Or we could sit and look through old pictures. Or...or...or...
We do have those evenings sometimes--and I have to say that Jamey is better at dropping everything and living in the moment--but more often I stay at a dead run all the way up until 11 or 12 o'clock, still checking things off my list. (Dinner, dishes, baths, laundry, prayers, kids in bed, lunch packed, more laundry, tidy up, trash out, papers shuffled, crumbs swept, counters wiped, shirts ironed, papers corrected, snack, shower, bed.)
Oh! And then I fall into bed with this smug sense of my own efficiency. "Look what an outstanding manager I am. What a well-run household! I checked everything off my list, and put tomorrow's dinner in the crock-pot! Yay Me!")
Shame, shame, shame! It just burst over me tonight, and I had a sudden loathing for this enormous house and all these THINGS. Or at least for the way I have been putting the stupid things first. I have these little souls living in my home for such a brief time. These future men and women, potential philosophers and artists, theologians, engineers, musicians--who knows? A sacred trust! A joy! A divine mandate! And here I have chosen to burden myself with a thousand inanimate objects which clamor incessantly for maintenance and attention--sly, tiny slices of my limited time, and meanwhile I don't even know what is in my childrens' hearts.
I am so glad I came to this while I still have all my whole family here! I hereby commit to a purposeful restructuring of my evenings.
I will ignore the appliances and focus on the humans.
I will leave things undone in order to play and read stories.
I will not accomplish that "one more thing" each night because in 100 years no one will remember that my bathroom grout was free of hard water deposits.
I will eventually live in filth and squalor--oops! A little fear spilling out there.
I will try to find a good balance!
I had precious conversations this week (during school hours) with two of my children about why we are doing what we are doing. I told them that I don't care about anything more than shaping their souls to love God and serve Him however He wants them to. Nothing else matters to me because nothing else is eternal. I told them I pray over them at night while they are sleeping and grieve over the ways I fail them in my example every day.
I saw their eyes tear up and was so hopeful that they caught a glimpse of my passion, but I realized tonight that the passion I have been showing them is the one where I have a house and children that "show well"--shiny and presentable and running on schedule. That is not relationship or discipleship and I don't want it to be my legacy.
How I could be content for so long to throw my evening efforts to the wind, I don't know. I am just glad to have had this little epiphany before my last child left home.
"Remind me of this with every decision:
Generations will reap what I sow.
I can pass on a curse or a blessing,
To those I may never know."
--Sara Groves
