When I ask how people are, the most common response I get? “So very busy.”
What is the impact of busyness? When multiple tasks compete for the same moment, we must choose. Some say these choices reveal our true priorities. If we can do only one thing, we gravitate toward the most important. Do we?
As I sat in my front porch rocker beginning my time with the Lord, I noticed my plants. They needed water—desperately. As I rose to get the water can, a voice spoke, “Are you going to put me off again?”
Already I had delayed getting alone with God in order to empty the dishwasher, fold laundry, and ensure the coffee was brewing. Was I going to delay Him longer? Was it truly more important to water plants than talk with God? Than to be filled for the day with His love and presence? Than to ask Him what I was to do with the day He had given? I knew that if I interrupted my time with God for one more task, the day’s demands would escalate and I would never return to that rocker.
So often we attend to the immediate rather than the important. Sometimes we have no choice. The immediate must happen—or nothing happens. If the gas tank is dry, the children hungry, or the bill due—we must attend to those immediate concerns in order for the rest of life to keep going. Yet, our lives are ultimately defined by our actions. Where we put our energy and time becomes our legacy. If our actions attend solely to the immediate, we create a legacy we live to regret.
I recently spoke with a man about his impending retirement. He looked forward to finally settling down to being a dad. Given that his children were 39 and 36 respectively, he worried that he might be too late. He knew the important had slipped by while he was attending to the immediate.
The answer? Have a clear vision of what is important—then plan for it. If spending time teaching your children about the truths of God is important, plan specific times in your day to teach your children.
If building intimacy with your spouse is important, set aside time to be alone together. Think about what you want your spouse to know and plan for moments to share those thoughts. Plan fun dates.
If staying close to a friend is important—reserve lunches, write letters, make time for phone calls.
These never seem immediate. They are easily pushed to the backburner thinking, “I’ll get to that later.” Because they are so important, we are sure we will. Yet, so often we don’t. The immediate just keeps coming—stealing moment after moment until we fall into bed resolving to do better tomorrow.
This morning I sat back in my rocker to continue my already too often interrupted time with God. If I had to choose, the flowers were going to die. The immediate would not rob the important again.
Fortunately, I was able to do both. In my time with God, He led me to set a priority of chatting with my daughter. I asked her to come onto the porch with me, and she noticed the plants. She loves watering so we spent the next half hour happily chatting and watering together. Choose the important. Once in place, you’ll find a way to get to the immediate, too. Even the flowers will survive.
My stomach clenched as the psychologist continued, "Oh, and you'll need to prepare for your husband cussing more. That just happens with stroke patients."
What?! After waiting for over a month for Mike to utter words--now I have to worry about censoring him in front of the children? I have to continue nurturing and responding to a man whose words may tear down rather than communicate? After all this work, why would this be what comes out?
Yet, I have to admit how often those same words come to my mind. When the loaded laundry basket crashes from the shelf onto my head, when the milk jug splatters to the floor, when the grocery line stalls. What if the part of my brain that stops me from uttering these out loud quit working and people really knew what was going through my head? "God, I don't want a condition that makes me less like You?"
As clear as a bell I heard God's voice saying, "Right now, are you becoming more like Me--or less?"
It hit me. Every situation, even how I respond to Mike's stroke, offers the chance for me to grow more like God or less like God. I'm so tempted to think about what's happening to me, how I feel, and how to get others to give me what I want. Jesus focused on what was happening to others, how they felt, and how He could get them what they need.
Do I see this situation as a chance to grow more like Jesus? Do I focus on the other people at rehab? Do I ensure I listen to all my children are going through? Do I continue to lovingly relate to Mike even though he can't relate back--just as Jesus continues to lovingly relate to me even when I can't relate back?
Every situation--every fight with our spouse, every disobedience by our children, every challenge in our finances offers the opportunity for us to say, "How can I walk through this growing more like Jesus?"
I'm learning it's not about God sending the right situations for me to grow--it's about using each situation rightly. Lord, let me use this to grow to be like You.
No more series!! That decision follows the third time I've tried and found that each time, some family crisis keeps me from going forward.
Instead, I'm simply going to offer insights as they come to me in the area of family. That usually means sharing my most recent goof in mothering or wifing and how God brought me through it so that you can avoid my mistakes--or at least find a way out if you are already there.
Today's insight--Tester vs. Teacher. My husband's stroke has offered amazing insights into how people work. One of the most telling--there are testers and there are teachers. Two of his therapists clearly demonstrate this dichotomy.
One therapist begins every session pulling out books, putting Mike through his paces, then detailing every instance where he got the answer wrong. Shes uses this to explain what that means about what he can't do and where he will struggle. Though enlightening, he leaves each session his shoulders slumped, his walk slower, his mood down. She discourages and breeds fear and a sense of failure.
The other therapist pulls out her books, puts Mike through his paces, then details every instance where he succeeded. She then builds on areas of success to increase his abilities in weaker areas. She shows him how one success leads to another. He leaves sessions with her standing a little taller, walking a little quicker, enthusiastic about trying again. She encourages and breeds security and a sense of hope.
"I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go." Psalm 32:8. God is a teacher. He encourages, nurtures, builds from where we are to where we need to go. In our families, if we are to model God--refuse to be a tester. Sure assessments are helpful and sometimes a gut check is needed. But, the atmosphere of our homes should be that of teaching. In this we build our families, encourage them, and offer hope that they can reach those seemingly impossible calls to which we aspire.
