Oftentimes when people hear of my adventures sans car, I am questioned about the dreadful amount of time I must waste, relying on the bus or my feet instead of the car. It's true that driving the 1.5 miles to the library might whiz by in a mere minute in a car, but it also true that I wouldn't enjoy the journey. When I walk hand in hand with Peapod, hauling a backpack full of books on my back, we gain a bit more than the exercise from the journey. The fifteen minutes are spent amongst nature, with the wind hitting our face, where Peapod might see a dandelion that we stop to pick and blow the fuzzies all about. Several times we have even picked some wild blackberries on our walks or had opportunity to watch the wild deer eating from an apple tree. In a car these experiences would be ones we would whiz right past.
When we take the bus to a shopping center, to do some errands, picking up our craft supplies for the month, a special ingredient for a new recipe, or whatever the case may be, there inevitably winds up being some time spent doing nothing, so wasted time in the minds of many. But as this is part of our lives, I prepare and plan accordingly, knowing that I can't just hop on the bus whenever I am ready, as you could a car, but must wait for the next one to arrive. When it is warm, I bring a thin blanket and a picnic lunch, to be enjoyed in the park as we pass what always seems to be twenty five minutes before the next bus arrives. In the winter, a thermos with soup or cocoa and some crackers or snacks come along, and we eat them hiding in the bus stop, awaiting our warm ride on the blustery day.
As I have really reflected on the thoughts of wasted time, being intentional, and making the most of time, I can't help but wonder if modern technology has sometimes caused us to lose out. Far from decrying all technology or returning to yesteryear, I'm just wondering where exactly there is a place for everything, including the pursuit s-l-o-w and truly savoring life. We all rush around all the time, flitting about like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland "late late late for an important date" and wonder if this is really the way to live all the time. Is this really healthy?
I think of the rich and juicy flavor of a scrumptious roast, slowly cooked for hours, with it's delightful aroma permeating my house. Such a fabulous treat this meal is--but oh! what patience it took. A treat such as this cannot be heated up quickly in a microwave. I wonder if this principle must hold true about life as well. If we always rush around, with our calendars stuffed full of activity, can we ever cultivate the richness of a life well lived? Without time to pause, to reflect, to let the flavors of all the different parts of our life meld into us, all the personality in our own families melt together in the family pot, do we ever reach our full potential as individuals, as husband & wife, as families, as friends, as anything? If we don't pause to breath, to sit still, and listen as God speaks to our hearts, can we really be open to His guidance? Can we follow the narrow road without adequate care for navigation and reading the map?
These are questions to which I have no answer, but ones that make me want to work towards a more intentional life. It's time to realize there is no rush. I do not have to flit about to each activity, trying to finish in record time, to beat some imaginary clock or feel as if I've been productive. Baking time shouldn't mean I grow at impatient at Peapod's taking her time breaking the eggs and do it myself, but realize the world will not end if this process takes ten minutes or more. She's learning to bake and exploring in the kitchen; I'm learning patience and care for the delicate processes of a child's learning. Her work is valuable and is to be encouraged, at her ability and in her own time frame, not that of my adult self.
Bath time need not be under thirty minutes every night, as if somebody were watching with a stop watch in hand, but can extend longer when Peapod is especially having fun. Allowing Peapod to put the towels away in the linen closet will not yield a perfect stack, but her doing so does produce a love for helping Mama, the lessons of doing work with joy in her precious little heart, as she sings and dances about during her chore time, and that's far more important than domestic perfection. There will be time for a neat linen closet, and by then I'll surely miss the sticky finger prints on my walls and the little one who was so eager to help and learn everything she possibly could, as she'll be all grown up.
Emailing shouldn't be my first choice of communication with others, simply because it's fast and easy. A handwritten note is a precious gift to nearly everyone, but especially to my husband overseas. Beautiful Peapod made stationary, a pretty writing pen, a well-furnished writing desk are of far higher value than the nicest computer and the fastest high speed connection, no matter how often my need for speed makes me forget this important truth. Connections don't truly come while rushed, but only when allowed to unravel and flow naturally, with care at every step of the way.
Rather than rush through the chores and need-to-dos, perhaps its time to enjoy the unique noise of my corn broom sweeping across the floor as I sweep every morning and evening. It's time to enjoy the yummy scents of favorite essential oil blends as I go about my cleaning, laundry, and ironing. It's time to turn off the stand mixer and knead the bread by hand, at least the easy to knead glutenous varieties. And more importantly, it's time to let the laundry linger in the basket until evening or forgo the ironing this week, because maybe it's the first sunny day this week and time would best be spent taking a sweet little one outside, rather than worrying about clothing getting put away "on schedule". And soon it will be the first weeks with my husband home again and many things just don't seem as important when I ponder all of the time we've missed.
Surely there are times we must rush, must work quickly and with vigor to get everything done, but that's not every day, every moment, or even most of the time. For a full, rich life, abounding with love and simple pleasures, there must be times for quiet, to sit back & do nothing, to smell the flowers & hear the birds, and to be still and slow. Listening, watching, waiting, and savoring.
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