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There’s Always Tomorrow

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If you ask me for my top strengths, I will tell you that I have gladly studied them on

It’s my white space. I can do whatever I want with it. White space means that when someone says, “Can you make a meeting at 7:00 tonight?” My reply, “Let me check my planner, oh no sorry I have plans.” Yes, my white space is intentional. That is what I am now just trying to teach my children because, for many years, we were such in a hurry to get to the next activity that we didn’t take time for self-care. White space. I need it. You need it. We all need it.

This year has been an incredible journey of me trying to create new habits that are more productive and helpful. While cleaning, I ran across a journal entry from 01/16/2016. It must have been during a moment when I was watching my children wondering where the time went. It wasn’t a finished entry, but it reads:

It was as if he was observing me, carefully; grinning all the while. Father Time should be so pleased with himself. I can picture him tapping his long decrepit fingers together while holding his hands in a prayer-like position. He just sat back and watched me with his crooked smile, and squinting eyes; never complaining that I took him for granted as I was always assuming he would be there tomorrow as I squandered away my time.

It was only now during this tiresome period that he would make his move. It was then that I realized that so much time had passed. As my fatigued and weary eyes rest on my children, I can see how Father Time handcrafted them into adults. Just a little magic each second of the day. Nothing noticeable changed from day to day, but enough change that their transformation was very apparent by the end of the year.

Yes, Father Time allowed me to run around from practice to practice, work numerous hours of overtime, and attend a meeting after meeting without thinking about lost time with the children because there was always tomorrow. “We were all so busy,” I told myself. And I believed it.

They are only each age once, and I missed it. I dare not ask Father Time to freeze them at this age today, even though I yearn to hold onto these moments a little longer, for I fear that he will call upon his friend Death to stop their clock more permanently than what I had meant. I only want a little more time to try to regain the moments I let slip away.

I took for granted there would always be tomorrow. The minutes turned into hours, and hours into days until finally years had passed. Never acknowledging time was a gift; it was always passing while I was counting on tomorrow. The fact remains that my time is running out. I have seen the hourglass with my own eyes, and the sands are quickly plummeting.

Now that my body is slow, it is crystal clear that every second passes. As my slow legs guide me through the garden, I notice the morning dew drops resting on the individual flower petals. This was something I had missed in my earlier years as I sped right passed the plants in a hurry to get to my car and drive off to work.

I see progress, though usually minute to the naked eye, I see it. New growth within the vines stretched upwards towards the sunrise as they inhale oxygen intended for Mother Earth herself. I see the same vines fall into relaxation each evening with permission to rest underneath the night skies.

I observed the leaves dancing along the neighborhood, traveling from lawn to lawn, and across the sidewalks. I notice the lines and creases in the faces of my children as they laugh wholeheartedly and carefree.

I listen to the wind as she wisps by carrying secrets between friends and lovers. She wraps her graceful arms around wishes spoken out loud by innocent children and hopeful adults and takes them with her as she dances around in the beautiful skies. When she passes, she absorbs the cries of the sorrowful within her wounded heart and tries her best to release only the laughter she captured from the joyful, hoping it will echo among the people who are willing to listen.

All the things I had never heard in my adolescence because I was too busy getting to the next event, never knowing that all I had to do was be still and present in these tender moments that would rejuvenate me with the kiss of exuberance.

As I sit and absorb the laughter like sun rays, I can hear my children planning for tomorrow and next week. Remembering when I had done the same, relying on Father Time to grant me tomorrow instead of taking the time for today.

There will always be things to do tomorrow, but I encourage you to make a priority list and create your very own white space. God first, family second, and everything else will fall into place.

To make this happen, we need to be intentional with our daily agendas. Schedule time to just be still and know that your rest lies within the arms of your Heavenly Father.

Schedule time to laugh and play with your children. It may not look like planning the exact games or activities, but it will resemble “family time” on your calendar. Hold these time slots sacred and reclaim the gift of time by living intentionally.

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Comments

    • Thank you. I am trying to be more intentional with my time, but it takes constant practice. I wish you well in trying to find your balance too.

      Reply