Time...

Red wing blackbirds are singing out my window.  LOVE! the sound of the world settling down for the evening, birds, the neighborhood kids down at the park,  my sons giggling in their brand new bunk bed, Elyana turning the pages of her never ending books, etc.  This evening I randomly picked up the "joint" journal Dave and I started when we were married that has long lane neglected.  Then I looked at my rather forlorn one where the last entry was way before Kaiden was born.  How do people journal?  Or find time for 2 hour exercise regimens?  Or do these extensive scrapbooks?  I really wonder this!  I can barely find time to breath!  


Someone once said that you have as much time as the President of the USA, and he manages to run a country.  What are you doing with your day?  Maybe it's that we have time to do what is important to us.  Whether that be reading books with your kids, taking photos, looking at Pintrest, reading your Bible, making a fabulous supper, or a phone call to a friend.  Yesterday I took the time to call my very dear cousin and talk about our joint journey with lovely strong willed children.  Every time I take 10 minutes to pick up the phone or even 10 seconds to send a text I wonder why we don't do it more often.   


I am telling my children 20 times a day; people are more important then things. If things get in the way of people, then we get rid of the things.  (Hence the toys in time out)  It's a core strong value of mine.  God created people and then people created "stuff".


(On another note, Dave leaves for Kosovo on Monday for 15 days.  The sentence "15 days" is getting longer as we get closer to his departure date.  Really, really jealous. This year is our 10th year anniversary in November and we had both thought that God would lead us overseas.  Turns out He didn't (yet), and that makes me sad.)


But I will be thankful this evening for my time at home with a house full of children, a phone full of friend's phone numbers, my kind of dirty carpets that are driving me mad, the red wing blackbirds outside my window, and the 10 minutes to pour out my very scattered yet many thoughts onto a computer screen.  Come back next time, there may be more sense to the madness.  


The more I think of it however, the more thankful I am.  And the older and wrinklier I get the more I realize that maybe I don't have "time" to journal, but I do have time for a bird's song and a cousin's phone call.  I have time for my daughter's ballet, and my son's gymnastics show.  I have time for coffee with my husband, a chat with a friend, testing out gluten free baking for another dear friend's daughter, and long swings at the park.  There may not be much left for posterity to read when I am gone, but maybe it's best that way.  I really don't have good penmanship come to think of it.  Maybe people will remember me and maybe they won't. But in the end I hope they remember the little bit of God's love I tried to give.


Because after all, it is people and not things we get to take with us.  And for that I am thankful.  And at that I must go tuck my boys into bed (again).