Transition

We're in a time of transition right now. Lily has finished school; Isabel has three days left. We're moving into summer. Now life is about swimming and (possibly) gymnastics for Lily and VBS and sporadic morning camps.

I'm reading a new book, too: The Life You've Always Wanted, by John Ortberg. Tim gave it to us when we joined the church. The chapter I'm reading right now is called The Unhurried Life.

The general point: you can't love, or follow Jesus, when you're in a hurry. You should practice not hurrying, even if it means finding peace at the end of a grocery line when you are expected to be somewhere ASAP.

Yesterday, I had a window of time when Lee could watch the kids. Just 35 minutes, because he had to bring Hunter to his grooming appointment at noon. So I set out quickly for the bagel store and Publix, to pick up some items I needed.

The stoplights between our house and Publix are killers--the waiting time stretches over what feels like six minutes. It's probably two or three, but it feels looong. These stop lights are definitely longer than lights in other parts of the country. Abigail and I have both noticed this, coming, respectively, from Virginia and New Jersey.

By the time I made it to the bagel store, I'd been sitting at traffic light stops for several minutes. Now my time was extremely short. I rushed in and out of Goldbergs. Then I rushed around Publix, chose the express lane checkout, and unloaded my items. Then I realized that the little old woman at the front of the line was holding things up. I looked over to the other checkout line, glanced down at my items (which I'd already unloaded onto the conveyor belt), and considered moving. But then a woman took the place I would have taken in that line, so I decided to stay put.

The old woman didn't speak English, and she kept reaching through her change purse trying to find coins. One at a time, she handed them to the check-out guy, a high school boy. After what seemed like several minutes, I began to listen in. "No, this is a Canadian coin, ma'am." "Ma'am, you still owe $1.53." "Ma'am, this is also a Canadian coin." And so on.

The three Japanese men in front of me didn't speak English, either. They just talked amongst themselves. The high school boy was young and needed her to give him the right amount of money. So we waited. She slowly rifled through her coin purse. My blood pressure rose. She coughed up 50 cents. Still needed another dollar.

Finally, I took out a dollar bill. Thrusting it into the high school boy's hand, I said, "How much does she need? A dollar? Here you go." The boy smiled and flushed with relief. "Thank you!"

The high school boy said something like, "You're all done. You can go." The old woman, slow and confused, said, "But who paid the dollar?" He gestured at me. She looked at me and said, "But I have the money!" "It's OK," I replied. What I didn't say was that it was worth it to me to pay a dollar to get rid of her. She was making me late, and Lee needed to make that dog grooming appointment.

I made it home just in time. Lee doesn't like to be late for things. It would have really irritated him if I'd been late. I felt good about it. But of course, I hadn't exactly acted in a loving manner in the store, had I?

So...back to the book. The author actually suggests an exercise: Next time you go to the grocery store, deliberately choose the longest line. Then let someone get in front of you. As you practice this, you should tell God you are trusting him to enable you to accomplish all you need to get done.

Lee made it to the dog groomer on time. But even if he hadn't, even if he'd been 15 minutes late, I suspect it wouldn't have been a big deal. He had to drop Hunter off and pick him back up again at 4 pm. Would getting there 15 minutes late have thrown everything off?

Of course, I didn't know this at the time. I only knew that my husband was counting on me to be back in time to allow him to make his appointment.

Lord, now I have to hurry off to get myself and the kids ready for church. I pray that You will show me ways to trust You as I attempt to slow down. Slowing down makes me nervous. It's complicated when others are counting on me to be on time. I imagine I could have chosen to make that grocery run at another time. Show me Your wisdom. Help me to slow down. I would like this summer with my children to be a time of love, not hurry. 


In Your son's name I pray.
Amen