"Ten minute timer," Craig says. He patrols the hallway, rounding up bedtime stragglers for evening prayer. "Jane, you didn't make it," he says.
"No," she says, "I'm ready!" She blubbers around a toothbrush corralled in her cheek. "I'm alllllllmost ready."
"No," he shakes his head, "you're not done."
"But," she wrinkles her forehead, raises her shoulders. Sigh, "Ok."
"She didn't make the timer," Craig calls around the corner to me ten steps later, a bale of laundry now blooming from the dryer into his arms.
"I ALMOST did," Jane says.
"But you didn't," he shakes his head.
"It's because I linger and talk and relish relationships more than just the task." Her face sings.
"Sounds like Mom," Myra lilts. Sprawled on the floor, she passes puffs of post-documentary popcorn to George.
"But," I say, the big popcorn basin in my lap, hulls between my teeth, "what we want you to understand, Jane, is that you need to hurry and get the task done so you CAN get out here and enjoy the relationships."
"Oh," she says.
Oh, that. Finish the task to make room for margin. This is an art I am still learning, and in good company.
Gratitude:
6515. A new ruler, a teeny tiny triangle one, like a mini-drafting one with a pencil clip on the side.
6516. Friends invite us to dinner and serve oxtail. Bonanza! And there is so much affection and fellowship in the evening, we stay way, way, way to late but enjoy the camaraderie so much.
6517. Dad's birthday lands on Saturday-pancake-breakfast and in all its maple syrup and whip cream bounty we celebrate. Joe and Myra surprise us by eating 10 pancakes each. Best of all, we linger in stories and laugher.
6518. We celebrate the life of Great-Grammie, 102 years. Family gathered, we remember the irreplaceable riches of a life well lived.
6519. Jack tears out two shrubs and a fence for us, the beginning of another new garden.
6520. The children tend to their 1000+ baby plants.
6521. I land this Sunday more tired than I've been in a very long time. Sleep is such a gift. I can't wait to open it tonight.
Nailed it...Finish the task to make room for margin. Oh how the excuses center around NOT doing that--with almost enough logic from the insistence that there was no ill will or selfishness involved. I see myself.
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