The morning back from Christmas break, in spite of all the whining and general malaise not having a schedule can bring, is always a little heartbreaking for me. I get something from my oldest’s excitement about rejoining her friends at school, and my littlest’s joy in play—they’re clearly not worried about the passage of time.
But I am.
In a way, I consider too closely the passage of time, mark its moments and wonder, when next? What next?
Why not just be in the moment completely and touch what God is handing me now?
I know what you’re thinking: there are many reasons why. Daily any one of us gets caught up in the hustle and bustle of what we perceive as life. You’re right. My point, though, is that when we pause for any holiday—that actual making time for time—we realize we are, many of us, creatures of habit and control, unable to be still until given the opportunity to understand the richness of stillness. I found this year stillness to be more valuable than any present anyone could have given me, and now I seek it like I do when I’m craving Jingle Jangle after New Year’s Day: all but gone, the memory of desire left to prove its enticement. I’m finding stillness in unexpected ways, and straining sometimes to grasp it, to cherish the smallest moments shared with family and friends, knowing that in the past I would be resentful of not having more time, more everything—and now knowing more isn’t everything.
If there’s anything like a resolution in any of this, I’m reaching and striving for it this year. I’m inserting into my life more pause. I hope your year goes well and that you find the same pleasant surprise in that moment when you notice the truth about time, about those you love, about what you cherish and value. And Happy New Year to you!