Sometimes I find something I’d really like to do: a craft, a recipe, a re-decorating thing and I make up my mind that I’m on a mission.
I begin planning it. I budget for the materials, buy all that I need during my weekly shopping trip and set aside a time in my overworked, old school spiral planner.
Then the day comes and I begin the thing in my quiet time (nap time), because, thank the omniscient Lord, my children still take an afternoon nap together. This nap usually lasts about an hour and a half. Except on this day.
I will no doubt have scissors askew, paper shreds everywhere, and a hot glue gun oozing on cardboard if I’m crafting. If I’m baking, I’m elbows deep kneading or about to roll dough. And if I’m moving things, nothing is as it should be. I have stacks of organization going on, and furniture awry and probably some tool out, tossed aside that I’ve forgotten about.
On this day, the project day, one of the babies arises. Less than a half hour into their nap. My little snuggle bug and love bird, they are so sweet. They are my heart. They rub their eyes, and toddle toward me in their sleep daze. They climb up into my lap and melt me to the core. These days, they won’t last. I never miss an opportunity to snuggle.
As the one in my lap slowly wakes up, the other one is now up. Because they’re peas in a pod and the best of friends, or maybe just because the body heat beside them left. In any case, the second one is not far behind. They too will climb up into my lap for groggy snuggle time. But at this point, the first is beginning to catch their snap.
It is now that I realize the dangers of the scissors, my dough rising over the edges of the immense silver bowl, or just how little progress I made with the organization piles across the floor. Which is of little importance now, because it’s either being driven across as a bridge for matchbox cars or torn into the tiniest shreds and tossed about the room.
Oh, how the crazy arises. Slow at first, with patience for this piece of heart that was just in my lap, and then faster as I realize my project will sit. My opportunity was missed.
Carpe diem.
No mother coined this phrase.
But I try. And as fast as the days are flying by, I can’t capture a moment or seize a day. Because. It’s. Insane. These small ones, they are the most amazing, incredible creatures. Isaiah, who is crazy articulate, and demanding of responses. Who laughs loud at himself in the mirror, practicing his funny faces and trying hard to be independent. My three year old wonder who looks like a five year old, but still screws up his face like a baby when he cries. Zoe, my fiery bird, who needs to feed herself, and clothe herself, and just do everything. Herself. Who doesn’t know how to speak her mind yet, but puts her hand on her hip and babbles, not letting the lack of words stop her. The fifteen month old ball of energy who climbs tables and chairs and isn’t afraid to jump, who screams inconsolable and laughs hysterically in the same second.
I can’t seize the day, because despite my attempts at rhythm, there’s always a hiccup. Or some bodily function, that will undoubtedly make me late despite my careful planning and laying out of clothes and jackets the night before.
It makes me crazy, and I can’t help it. This season is insane.
This season is insane. This December-Christmas business, where we want to and feel obligated to visit our friends and neighbors, families and coworkers. Where we can focus on how much shopping and cleaning we have to do. The wrapping, the plans, the baking, the visiting. The decorating and the pressure to make memories. Don’t seize the moment.
Carpe DEUM.
Seize God.
That’s why He came. That’s why He’s here, among us, Emmanuel. It’s no accident that during the weeks of Advent, we celebrate Him as our Hope, our Peace, our Joy, our Love.
In all these moments, we can focus on what we need to accomplish. On seizing the day and making every moment count. But what pressure that is, that we can’t and won’t ever live up to. What if we focused on Him instead?
The One that came to be born of a young virgin girl. The One who wasn’t born with a doctor in a house or an inn, but was wrapped in cloths and placed in a manger where the animals were bedded down. The One who was called blasphemer and a drunkard that escaped stoning by the most religious. The One who always, always, ALWAYS made time for the least, the poor, the marginalized, the voiceless. The One who became a curse for us (Galatians 3:13 NIV) and completely turned the world on its head. The One who fulfilled the prophet, “He tends His flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those that have young.” (Isaiah 40:11 NIV) Who is also, “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6B NIV)
The One who was nothing what the world expected, but everything we needed.
There will always be projects and problems and pressures. These are the pieces of life. If they become our focus, we will miss out on the heart. Maybe taking the time in relationship IS the mission. And if the opportunity to love on someone arises, we should seize God and run to them with open arms, embracing the God ordained present.
Live blessed.
In All Seasons 