It is something I have been told most of my life: “Slow down. Practice being still. Take time to smell the roses.”
And all the while I was a bit too busy to consider the advice. The truth is there were always things to do, things to undo, and things to begin, wrap up, thaw out, plant, paint, or plan. Life was busy in just every day to day living. It was also an observation from friends that if I did tend to slow down, I would find something to do. It was a nervous trait I had most of my life or as far back as I can remember.
And to play the devil's advocate, there are also the sayings "Idle hands are the devil's workshop”, and “If you want to get something done, ask a busy person."
It was in fact in my 50's that I began to see value in quiet moments and would go so far as to say I look forward to them. I now relish being alone and the loudest sound in the house being the hum of the refrigerator. Perhaps it just took my children being grown and moving away for me to become accustomed to quiet. A sound I first referred to when they left home as a very loud silence.
This past week one of my morning devotionals brought this to mind. It was titled "Busy Beavers." It went on to explain that wearing the "busy" badge as an indicator of our work has edged its way into our way of life and thinking. If we are not careening from one errand to the next or hitting the gym after work, we may feel we fall short of enough "busy worthy" functions in our daily lives.
In our saner moments it is possible we long to hop off the treadmill, but our inner busy beaver fears to be seen as slovenly, so it rears its ugly head. Our calendars are filled to the point that we struggle to fit in a quick moment of down time alone. The devotional goes on to ask an important question: "Since when are we worth more by doing more? I think it was that question that stuck with me throughout the day I read it.
There is no getting around being busy as we raise children, work jobs, keep house, and manage our families. I cannot count the moments I would think to myself how great it would be to have a housekeeper, a secretary, and a classroom assistant. But knowing me in those years of my life these additions would just free up more time for me to commit to more busyness.
The write up closed with this. "Take a deep breath. Look at your life through the lens you'll use when your story reads 'The End' and pray for wisdom on how to replace your 'Busy' badge with a 'Loving My Life' button." And that was when what was bothering me about the message got me. It is not the "being busy" part that tugged at my conscience. It was the "finding worth" part that hit home.
Maybe all those years of chasing my tail with laundry, dishes, appointments, writing, working, exercising, and then hitting do-over carried moments deemed a necessity, and many more moments driven to keep up with the Smiths, Jones, Jenkins, Sharps, and every other family out there that looked like they had it all together.
And now in my 50's the Smiths, Jones, Jenkins, and Sharps have the same tired bones, approaching fixed income, bland diet, and a desperate need for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. And if they don't, I could care less because my worth is not in what I am trying to become in the mad dash of youth, but the simple joy of watching a sunrise with a steaming cup of coffee and waiting for the first bird to call out in the trees.
Now, is it possible for a younger me to read this column and have the same epiphany? I doubt it seriously. Slowing down is a rite of passage, hard fought, and well earned. But it won't hurt for the quick reminder that we are not worth how we spend our time, but how we appreciate the time we are given.
