My two year old was sick with an unexplained fever this weekend. Him feeling under the weather put the brakes on our plans for the weekend. I grumbled at first, telling myself we didn't have time for him to be sick and want to snuggle all day. But at the end of it, I'm so glad for the inconvenience of his odd, still-unidentified illness because it gave me some time to really look around our house ... our life.
There are sparkling clean plates packed in the dishwasher just waiting to be unloaded. And a sink full is waiting to take their place.
The laundry is clean, but it's sitting in heaps upstairs, overflowing the baskets in which it has been crammed and the baby's cradle.
The boys are nearly dressed for the day, but the baby lacks pants and the two year old could use a pair of socks on his feet.
My husband and I have talked all day, but we've not said much that matters.
And our business -- the bulletin board has been covered so it's not absolutely naked, but the pictures and stories still need to be posted; and we rearranged the workout equipment, but the furniture and decorations need new spaces and places for the look to be complete.
I read my Bible today, but we didn't go to church.
I sent a few e-mails, but a few more are hanging out in the barracks.
I picked up some toys, but the rest are scattered around the playroom.
I even showered, but failed to fix my hair or put on make-up.
We attended many meetings, events and get togethers last week but only stayed for half most of the time.
In an attempt to create and sustain a full life, my little family has actually made our life into a world where everything is done half way. And lots of half ways don't add up to fullness.
After months of halves, I'm starting new this week; I'm aiming to cut out the halves so we can have more toward fullness. More full conversations. Less brief tweets, e-mails and texts. More full hours. Less of splitting time into billions of micro minutes among the day. More snuggling.
More living in the actual moment instead of propelling myself into the future by planning the details of every upcoming hour. More smiles.
Less tears after being rushed, frustrated and late.
It's time to let go of some things because trying to have everything is actually leaving us emptier than when we didn't have any of it.
Perhaps we could have it all, but I'm coming to the conclusion that I don't want it all. Because when you have it all, you suddenly run out of time every day wondering where the minutes went and if you captured even just a tiny glimpse of any of it. And then when you really and honestly run out of time, you'll look back and wonder if you spent it all in the moments that really mattered or if you lived a half life.