I have had a recurring fantasy since I was a kid, that life was a carousel in motion, and I had the power to freeze it anytime I wanted to – – any time life moved too fast, leaving me as the only animate rider with the option of getting off anywhere in the world. I would inevitably find an island with lots of sunshine, books and a beach and rest for a while until I was sufficiently recharged and ready to jump back into the fray. And then, hopping back onto the platform, I would mount my trusty steed and before he had even reached the top of his stride, I would be in synch with the rest of the world again, none the wiser but me. Life has always moved a bit too fast for me.

So why not slow down? And that doesn’t mean starting earlier so I can pack it all in – – It actually means slowing down, doing less, saying no. Moving at a pace commensurate with supply not demand. Supply of energy, attention, endurance, and ability – – not the demands of culture or schedule.

I am at a retreat this weekend – – 36 hours of time in which I only need to account for my own comings and goings. I never get that kind of time. Really never. It is a luxury. I just sent my husband a text (it actually was so long it broke down into several separate texts when sent) with detailed instructions about the girls’ schedule for the next 36 hours. SATs, lessons, workouts, homework, Church, birthday parties, presents, meals, food, scheduling…

So much goes into every day. Details. Unseen, often unappreciated. But details hammered out with the best of intentions, and with the welfare of each one of the family in mind as it is lovingly assembled into what sometimes feels like a precariously constructed house of cards, one activity wholly dependent upon the timely execution of the one before it. So much preparation goes into making the matrix fit and work and leave enough room to breathe. But it never works out that way; there is never enough time to breathe. And where in that matrix is there time to pursue God? To rest? To read? To ponder or simply do nothing together? Where is there room for spontaneity? Alone time. Time to recharge? Time to listen without distraction?

Do I have to be totally countercultural to live a life that includes the elements I find essential to health and happiness and fullness of life? The fact of the matter is, I have compromised everything and am just as guilty as the next Mom in packing the stream of life so full, it is bursting at the seams. Enough. It’s how I feel so much of the time. Enough. Stop the ride, I want to get off.

Before I came to the retreat, I went to my mother’s because I had enough uninterrupted hours to make the hour and a half trip out there, share some time with her and drive the hour and a half back in time to make the opening of the conference. Visits to the shore don’t happen often because in the economy of my life, time might be the least abundant commodity – – and uninterrupted chunks of time are even more rare. But today provided a window of opportunity and I took it.

I picked up my mother at home, drove her into town and we painted pottery and grabbed a quick lunch. The fact of the matter is she is a great artist. I have one of her almost-abstract paintings of South African life hanging in my kitchen to prove it. But what I discovered this morning is that she can barely wield her way around a piece of pre-fab ceramic and a paint brush. And now I have proof of that too!

It was funny, and dear. We spent the better part of two hours laughing, reminiscing, painting, and chatting. We navigated topics in mother-daughter short-hand, and enjoyed an intimacy only accessible through shared history. We intentionally steered clear of all things incendiary and kept each other positive. It was so lovely. And it certainly didn’t have anything to do with painting pottery…that just kept us still, which has always been a challenge for us both. We could have been chopping veggies or organizing closets – – it wasn’t about the activity – – it was about sharing time and space while keeping our minds off the to-do’s and the life that pressed in from the other side of that dedicated time.

Didn’t God design us to be in relationship? I don’t recall Adam or Eve getting post-it notes or a list of chores in the garden. They got each other. Companionship was the need…shared time and space was the answer. Isn’t that the definition of relationship? Time and space together? It still is, but my life has gotten so mired in the details, and so constrained by the schedule and the endless list of things that “need” doing that the urgent and immediate have supplanted the important.

That last step in my mother’s and my time together this morning – – the “keeping our minds off the to-do’s and the life that pressed in from the other side of that dedicated time” – – that is what is missing in my real life. I have been unable or unwilling to keep those things at bay when interacting with my family and they PRECLUDE shared time and space. I cannot listen to someone AND be thinking about “what’s next” at the same time. It’s one or the other. The moment the tidal wave of what-needs-doing, what’s-next-on-the-list, or what-is-still-left-undone, breaks into relational time, it is no longer relational time. It only looks that way but it isn’t fooling anyone – – -and the worst thing is, instead of building relationship, that kind of distracted time actually breaks it down. It’s the kind of time when I am answering in the right spots or “reacting appropriately” but not really engaged. It’s a lie.

Ask any child who is trying to show a parent their artwork if the parent is really there or somewhere else in their heads and that child will have 100% accuracy in their assessment. Time shared, REAL relationship cannot be faked. I am not fooling ANYONE when I am not present and it’s kind of insulting, I would think, to be on the other side of the attempt to be present when my mind is filled with a thousand other things which, let’s be honest, are not as important as the moment of engagement I am missing.

When I am on the other side of that behavior – – when my husband is checking his calendar or has that glaze in his eyes to remind me he is entirely disengaged – – when my kids are really Instagramming and “yes-Mommy-ing” me, it distances me, hurts my feelings, and makes me feel insignificant.

Since when did I allow the schedule and the faulty, over-weight-bearing infrastructure of this family to take precedence over a kid telling me about a hard day, a challenging social moment or a proper greeting to a husband who just walked through the door after a long day?

And what about me? What about taking seriously my own need for engagement with the people in my own family? I need that too. I cannot play poor me, if I haven’t asked for what I need, and I need that time and attention from family just as much as they need that from me. I need the people around me to have the time to listen – – to my world – – to care enough to get off their phones, and snap-chat-instagram-text-conference-call-facebook-linked-in enough to really engage to see how I am doing too, to help me around the kitchen island and chat and joke and carry on and be in relationship, sharing time and space in the midst of real life. Like my mom and I did this morning. NO agenda for goodness sakes, just time together. Sometimes moving from the speed-of-life into that relational time feels awkward in the beginning, but it always gets to a place that is real, and easy and fun. In fact, fun is the hallmark of relationship. And how often do we get there….gentle teasing, laughter, self-deprecating observations, banter. This is the stuff of life – – but it needs time to blossom and without it, relationship fades into winter, untended and in desperate need of sunlight, water and warmth.

What if I redefined the way I approached time together in this family? The fact of the matter is, never, no matter how hard I have worked
or will ever work, no matter how well everyone “does their part,” will we ever get to that place where everything is done. I have to come up with a way to shut down, find a stopping point, turn off the to-do section of my brain and engage in time shared. I cannot buy into culture that says go, go, go or else you will be left behind. Go, go, go, or else someone loses out. It is the very go, go, go, that is the problem. The schedule and demands of the world will not slow down, so I have to. I have to make the conscious decision to step away and be alright with that.

What can I do to reconnect with those I love most in the world, by scheduling less – – or actually scheduling down time that I protect as fiercely as I protect the time for lessons and homework and logistics? What can I do to structure reunions and farewells so they are not just a litany of directives, updates and reminders but a chance to connect with someone when they come home or love on them before they depart?

What can I do to prioritize time shared – – make it the main event rather than treat it as an add-on, a do-it-while-we-are-on-the-way-to-do-something-else, proposition?

Shared time, is the very substance our childhoods are made of. When I look back at my childhood, it isn’t a collection of accomplishments or activities – – it is a collage of shared moments, conversations, mother-daughter days, swimming in the river with my brother, sitting in the workshop with my dad – – no life lessons, no podium-moments – – just time shared. God decides which of those moments I remember, which touch me in that deep and indelible way and which I will carry with me long after I grow up. But I waste my time in my own family trying to manufacture those moments in the lives of my own children and family. Don’t I realize I don’t have that power? They will remember the moments God chooses for them out of a collection of shared time and space. So why do I try and share life lessons, condense life, give them the cliff notes? Why don’t I concentrate more on just sharing it? Why do I try and prepare my kids for every eventuality? Why do I try and get everything “in order” so things will “be o.k.” when things will never be o.k., and I can never prepare them for every eventuality and things are never, all at once, “in order?” Why don’t I relax and enjoy THEM, make time for THEM, intentionally, every day, and enjoy that because that truly is the stuff of life.

And here is how God works….Time has a way of redeeming itself when shared like that….as God intended – – with Him in charge. There will be time enough, if I order my time as God would have me….to fit life in, just fine.

The best day of my week last week was defined by 20 minutes around our tiny kitchen island…I was cutting veggies and Tim wandered in (which in and of itself made me feel lovely…because he just wanted to spend some time with me…) And he had a magazine and he sat there on the little kitchen stool, chatting and reading out loud, a section here and a section there, when he thought it might interest me. Otherwise we chatted. It was the standout moment of the week. It was time shared. I got A LOT accomplished last week. But that was the moment that meant the most.

This week, I think it will be that time shared with my Mom painting smiley faces on clay bowls, designs on salt dishes and hearts all the way down the handle of a mug she will hang on the mug-tree my father built her from a maple base and a bunch of dowel rods he and I bought at the hardware store one Saturday when I was in high school.

I won’t remember all the things I accomplished this week even a week from now. But I will remember that day with my Mom, those moments around the island with my husband and the day at the hardware store with my dad for a long, long time – – if not forever. Those God-moments are the stuff of life – – and they rarely emerge from my schedule, but from His.