Busy, Busy, Busy

Have you ever had a homily that burned its way into your heart, mind and soul? Twenty-five years ago I was sitting in a church in Florissant, Missouri, with my three small children, when the priest stood in front of us and quietly said, “I talk to a lot of people in the course of the day. And every single person I talk to is on the run. I ask you how you are doing, and you just tell me just how busy you are.”

He looked at the congregation with pity, then said, "Do you know what I would love to hear from you?"
​

​​I paused amid wrangling children and looked up, wondering what he would love to hear from us.

“I would love just one of you, occasionally, to tell me how much you enjoy your life.”

He challenged us to reassess our lives. Why were we so busy? What was the purpose? Why did we feel the need? 

I thought of my own life. I was thirty years old with three small children. I was busy, very busy, in fact. My daughter Rachel had speech issues, and so I enrolled her in a normal preschool as well as a specialized one that catered to those with speech difficulties. 

​And as far as activities? Well, I was simply doing what Everyone Else Was Doing, involving my children in sports and programs. When a mom friend would mention a new team that her husband was starting up for four-year olds, all of us moms would all eagerly sign on the dotted line, wanting our child to be included, never really even considering what that would mean for our family time or nap time or husband/wife time. 

That’s just the way it was. What would it look like to just chill out and rest with the children? What would it feel like to have dinner as a family? What would it be like to reclaim Sunday? ​

He ended his homily with this, “I am looking for one person to tell me, when I ask them how they are doing, that they love their life, that they are well rested and at peace.”

That challenge was issued to me over 25 years ago, and I still remember how it provoked me to change. I took Rachel out of one of her preschools; I stopped signing my toddlers up for sports. We bought a massive playset for our backyard, and the kids spent most of their childhood swinging, playing, climbing, and digging in the rocks that surrounded the playset.

One priest's homily changed our lives. Why did it have such an impact? Because he spoke truth with a capital T: "When I ask you how you are doing, you give me a long list of all of the things that you have to do. It's like that has become who you are."

And people, I wore my busy like a badge of honor. It had somehow become how I measured our worth as a family. His words pierced through the ties that BOUND us, allowing me, as the heart of the home, to unravel, to breath, to walk us into the realm of becoming a different sort of family. 

Well, that was the year 1999; looking back from where I sit now, I was going at a snail's pace back then. What has changed? In one word, technology. 

You and I have access to the entire world. We can see, in real time, other people's lives. We can see all of the good and the bad, the ugly, the beautiful. We can watch full seasons of every single show that has ever been created, without commercials! There are so many funny videos to watch, so much content to share. We are in constant contact with anyone and everyone via snapchat, texts and emails. 

The world is at our fingertips.

But as John Eldredge has observed,  "My soul just can’t do life at the speed of smartphones." 

How can we be more intentional with our lives? How can you slow down? What needs to happen? I know these are big questions, but simply begin to notice how screen time affects you. Create buffer time. 

Example: create rituals that do not include your phone.
Morning: 
Get up. Pray. Drink coffee. And THEN look at your phone.
Evening:
Put your phone to bed at a certain time, such as 8:30 p.m. Tuck it into a special drawer or on the counter in the kitchen. 

This will give your brain space. It will create margin in your day. Try it for a week. It will change your life.