A rush of hot, humid wind seemed to lift and escape past me as I shut the back door of our van. In one hand I clutched a small trash bag and in the other a stack of fast food napkins that I would relocate to the glove compartment. The rattle of cicadas and grasshoppers was as loud as the surround sound introduction in a movie theatre.
On the sidewalk beside my vehicle was a pile of stray toys, a beach towel, a Thermos cup, and a couple of pencils. I had given myself the job of emptying “the summertime” from our car. While that largely consisted of paper straw wrappers, they seemed to make me sentimental.
I’m not ready for this summer to be over. I wanted us to swim a little more, take another trip together, and work on our money-value and time-telling skills. But, I’m not sure what would seem enough to me.
I am not a systems person, not super organized. I’d just as much like to sit outside with my kids and marvel at the special rocks they find as I would like to follow a detailed list of things to go and do around town… though I see the benefit to both.
With the first day of school peeking around the corner, I have felt the rhythm of system and strategy peeking around too, and I am reminding myself that:
-Sometimes I make better use of time when it is limited.
-Sometimes my children flourish a little more when they have a more concrete schedule.
-And, strategy and intentionality are things I can capitalize on when I’m awoken to the reality of a season’s change.
Isn’t life just one transition after another? And, the seasons we’d like to stay in a little longer move on, reminding us that few things are permanent. Ecclesiastes 3:11 says that God has “planted eternity in our hearts.” And so it is the human experience to want more… more time.
Here’s to you, wherever you are, however you are, and here’s to being the best mom you can be to your kids as they head back to school. I hope you (and I) utilize our time with our children well, remembering that the days are short even if it doesn’t always feel that way.
Just so you know, the day I emptied my car of “the summertime,” I sat out on our bench another minute or two and let the quiet overwhelm my ears and the warm, full heat wash over me. I hope those moments find you too.
