I haven’t been managing time lately at all; it’s been managing me. Trying to unpack boxes and settle into a new home before the arrival of our baby has left me feeling frazzled to say the least. Trying to take care of my children the way I see fit, maintain my other responsibilities, and not collapse into a useless pile of exhausted and frantic tears has been a challenge to put it mildly.
Despite being on the doorstep of the delivery room, and regardless of my never-ending task of reordering my home, being a mom period is tough. I constantly feel like I’m running a race with time, and the sad fact is that time always wins. Always.
I’m forever behind, consistently late, and always missing something on the list of accomplishments I desire for the day. And as if there not being an ample supply of hours in the day wasn’t enough to drive one mad, factor in the cruel rushing of the sands of the hourglass, and it’s enough to reduce the most stoic of women to tears.
Who hasn’t packed away another box of outgrown baby clothes and asked the empty nursery, “what happened?!” When did my baby transition from a cooing cuddle-bug that could barely roll over into a long-legged little lady that gives me too much sass? Wasn’t she just teething yesterday? And as you throw away the expired teething tablets and pack away the now neglected teething ring you realize with a drop of your heart that time is indeed fleeting.
It rushes by like a speeding train, and I’m often left sputtering speechless in the dust of its wake. I feel powerless to the giant of crushing time, and as it plunges forward without my consent I am left defeated by my inability to not only conquer its stealthy passage, but even make a mark in my day before it ends.
I woke this morning with a busy mind per usual, the wheels of my brain turning before coffee could even lubricate its inner workings. I already had a plentiful to-do list in mind, but as I sat sipping my morning cup of joe I felt the yearning for something more substantial than hanging pictures on the wall, or even my upcoming salon visit for a root touch-up.
I longed for Him.
I desired time with my Savior, and though I had very little time to spare, I knew that this rich communion was not something I could forgo. I needed it. My mind needed it. My body needed it. My spirit longed for an oasis away from my tight schedule, and the only rest in sight for a weary woman like myself was quiet time with Jesus.
So often I think of time as my enemy, like its a cruel creation that tempts me with its elusiveness, but this morning I was reminded that it’s actually a gift. It’s a gift from Him, and one that I should cherish, not abhor.
By aligning myself with the Lord, by seeking His face sufficiently, I am able to more adequately confront my full schedule. He has triumphantly gone before me, making the way, and lining up my day in a manner that is purposeful and useful. I need only to start it in communion with Him to be open to the leading He provides to lighten the load that is my hectic day.
I often seek answers for how things will turn out, desiring a roadmap for the day, complete with crossed off tasks and finished projects, but my God would simply say, “seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.”
Time isn’t my enemy. I’m my own worst enemy. Time is my gift from above, and to use it wisely is within my reach. Time here on earth, in the presence of so many precious gifts bestowed to me is my blessing to partake in, not to dread. And the secret to time management for the Christian woman is to enjoy her time, and to allow God to do the managing. That is a schedule I think I can maintain.