As tornadoes tore through our area, a young mom headed to the basement clutching her 4-year-old. Before she could return to help her parents down the stairs, a tornado hit the house. The force tore her child from her arms.
Home gone. Parents gone. Son gone. Two minutes--max. Life completely unraveled.
As I tried to wrap my mind around such grief, I clutched my own children more tightly. Each day I fearfully watched the sky for signs of storms--edgy, scared, clutching.
How do we find that sweet spot between urgency and apathy? Between the fear-induced need to hold children a bit too tightly and the careless numbness that allows shared time pass without the wonder due each moment. How do we learn to squeeze the most out of every interaction without sucking the life from those around us?
Choose to engage. We can stop apathy by refusing to live with half our mind on a to-do list and half our mind on our child's conversation. We can stop believing the lie that multi-tasking makes us more efficient. We can stop putting off for later what is offered now.
Instead, we can choose to fully listen--going for more than the point. Focusing on the nuances, the humor, the amazing reasoning of our child's mind. We can take one task at a time and do it, only it, reveling in the joy of a work well done. We can live in the realization that life changes quickly, often without notice, so grab what is offered when it is offered.
Choose faith, not fear. So often, we slide into urgency out of fear. Fear comes from the Enemy. An enemy that cheats even the good moments with dread for what might happen next. Though we will face events that at times overwhelm, confuse, or numb--we also live knowing that they never surprise God. They are never out of the Father's control. If we live in the confidence that every day is planned by a loving, all-powerful Father, we don't live in dread. We rest in the confidence that when the bad comes, so will the provision.
Somewhere between urgency and apathy we find a way to live fully in each moment while trusting the coming moments to God. I pray for the mama who lost so much. To keep these prayers from ringing hollow, I also live grateful for all that I have rather than treat cavalierly all she would love to get back.

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