Our days are slowly resuming their routine. We're enjoying the warmer weather and hitting all the parks in town. The calendar is back on fully functioning. If all goes as planned, we'll be back on a plane crossing oceans in two short months. There are a lot of people to enjoy before then, a lot of green space to take in. So far, Asher is filling his position as the flexible third born.
But the transition is taking some time. As most transitions do.
Our out-the-door and in-the-car estimated time is somewhere around thirty minutes right now. That's correct. It takes me about 30 minutes to round it all up and get out these days. And that's if everyone is fairly compliant and Asher doesn't decide he needs a snack.
My personality has a strong bent toward planning. That means that in every transition season, I'm thinking about how the settled season might look. Imagining myself getting all of this equipment and all these people out the door and into a crazy car ride through South Asia makes me pause. It will be my chaos meeting an indescribable cultural chaos that will undoubtedly lead to some pretty intense moments.
Elisabeth Elliot has a little note tucked away somewhere in her writing where she talks about taking care not to attempt more than you can complete without fuss and flurry. She said it better than that, of course. And considering the woman devoted her life to tribal work, wrote countless books and taught university courses, I trust you understand that she wasn't exactly promoting laziness. She was disciplined. And part of that discipline was trusting that the Father has not called us to more than we are able to complete in the time given to us in a day.
I find myself very often getting all out of sorts…caught up in a flurry of motion and activity. It usually happens when I add something into my schedule that I think I can get done…if I hurry. Not necessities, but little things that I plop into my schedule at the last minute in an attempt to get a more superfluous activity done.
To give an example, today I had an hour. A blessed, treasured hour alone. I rushed out the door after feeding Asher. We had a meeting scheduled in one hour. But I just knew I could get a few errands done. Oh, the freedom of running into make a return at Target without unbuckling any seat belts but my own. I did get several errands done. When I exited the last store and saw that I actually had five minutes until I needed to leave, I decided to make one more stop. I knew the exact book I wanted to purchase. I ran inside. I asked for help right away. And then it began to slowly unravel. The sales clerk wanted to look it up in the computer. The elderly lady was digging in her purse for pennies to make exact change and chatting with the cashier. The computer system that required me to enter all of my information if I wanted that 40% discount. The minutes were ticking and I was tapping my foot. I was short with the cashier, rolled my eyes behind the elderly lady's back, and rushed out to my car feeling like the whole world was in slow motion and unaware of the importance of my time.
One of my prayers for this coming year, this year of transition, is that I would walk in a more peaceful manner. Less pulling my kids around with sighs and huffs and more peaceful working together to make this new season work.
Less flurry, more intentional direction.
Just three weeks into this mom-of-3 world, I can already see that that will mean less. Less "accomplishments" each day, if I want to have a more peaceful home. Less dates on the calendar and outings listed for the week. Fewer deadlines and commitments. Because my hands are already full - and these little people are just what I want them full of.