On Being Wise...

Yesterday we had a lesson on finding wisdom. One of the concepts discussed that really resonated with me was a comment on how we are torn by competing demands and priorities--which, as you know, is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. I'm doing a little better. Cutting back my work hours a bit, getting better at saying "No," and trying to put my house and my life in some semblance of order. I've still got a ways to go. But I'm learning...


Because we needed to drive out an extra car and I had to work on Wednesday, my family left before I did to go over the river and through the woods to Grandma's house for Thanksgiving. I had lots to do and was looking forward to the empty house so I could get down to business. Only I discovered a couple of things.

One, I don't really like being alone in the house at night. (I have a new appreciation for my widowed mother who has done this for well over 20 years--I would scare myself silly and end up totally crazy). I can do it when the kids are home, but I would be hopeless completely alone. There is no logic in this; it is what it is.

Two, those chores I thought were so important to get done suddenly seemed meaningless. I missed my family and realized I wanted to have been with them for the entire holiday--not just the next day when I meant to drive out. (Suddenly I feel less badly about dropping everything--including the dirty dishes and the laundry--the other night when my 15-year-old really wanted me to take him to DI and then to Shopko to buy a new belt.) This is something I usually get right, but I often feel guilty over what get's left undone in order for me to get it right. So now, knowing how I really feel about getting it wrong this time, I'm hoping I can let go of the conflicted feelings and commit myself to getting it right more often. Does that make sense to anyone but me?

Someday I may have a clean house and the work might all be done. But I have a feeling when that day comes I might also be a little lonely.


During my time of solitude I drove over to the Jamestown to visit my grandparents. (My mom usually goes to my sister's house in Idaho for Thanksgiving, which leaves just me and my brother to look after them.) My grandmother, upon learning I had stayed behind to get the baking and cleaning done, told me twice during the conversation, "Just go buy some rolls at the store then go to join your family." Now this was really something from the woman who in my mind set the standard for the care and keeping of households in a home where, according to my mother, the children were expected to be seen but not heard. I was surprised and touched to recognize how the wisdom of her age had shifted her priorities a bit.

I can't wait till I'm 88 to get this part right.


The truth is I am becoming keenly aware of how short life is and how quickly we lose chances to spend time and build relationships with the people we love. I am reminded of it when someone I love dies and I regret not having known them better or spent more time with them. I am also mindful of it as I observe my children growing up much too fast and as I watch my oldest preparing to leave the nest.


So, as the holidays set upon me and my calendar fills up with something every night, here's what I'm trying to remember:

Life is short.

Each moment is a gift.

Enjoy the ride.