One Moment

It's a moment in my life when all my to-do lists keep reproducing with endless details. Not hard things; not too many things to accomplish in the allotted time; just always more responsibilities, decisions, projects, phone calls, e-mails. Some days I am motivated, and able to work towards the goal; today I just wanted to cross everything off the lists and empty my e-mail inbox and take a break, but the truth is that the list is never totally done (which is probably a good thing, indicating that I am still alive).

I'm glad for the things that fill my days -- preparing for five days of fun and planting seeds of truth into all the children at VBS; making gifts and cards for birthdays, graduations, and Father's Day; trips (the latest one to Texas to help my brother and sister-in-law move into their new apartment); playing the piano at church; writing e-mails to friends; tying up loose ends before moving to Germany for seven months; hosting the youth group at our home for the last meeting of the year; providing childcare for a church event for young families; finishing a quilt. But so often I don't enjoy doing them because hoards of other duties are breathing down my neck, making me feel that time is short and the most important thing is Getting Things Done.

When really, the most important thing is Giving God Glory. And that may have very little to do with how many check marks are on my list.

Tonight, after spending the evening with a group of children, I had One Moment of breakthrough. I love the freedom of a child at play, and perhaps their joy colored my outlook. My own Peter was one of the children, and his sweet love for me can't help but lift my spirits. (He came up to me as the evening was coming to an end and referred to a silly joke I started with him months earlier; then when I scooped him up in my arms he said, "No go home, Aunt Jew-ey. Stay here!" When I asked him, "Are you staying here? Aren't you going home?" he just responded with a long, tight hug.) Then on the way home, there was quiet. I was alone in my car and the stereo was off, but the quiet began in my heart. The sky was pink with the glory of the setting sun, and for a moment I thought, "I wish I was on a long road trip so I could enjoy this beauty, this solitude; so I could sink into it and really make the most of it."

But I caught myself. Instead of wishing for something else, for more or different or next, I could enjoy the One Moment I was living in. I could be sad that I was driving east and the sunset was behind me -- or I could be thankful for a rearview mirror-ful of glowing pink. I could wish for the enforced stillness of a long drive -- or I could relish the quiet solitude on the familiar, beautiful route to my home. I could wish everything on my list were crossed off -- or I could do the next thing, the One next thing, with joy.