Every morning is the same.We’re hurrying through breakfast and lunch-packing and shoe-finding and rushing to get out the door to get to school.
Our sixth grader takes the bus, but his younger brother still gets driven to school. And he is not happy when we aren’t on time. In fact, he reminds me day after day that he wants to be early.
Many mornings, though, something holds us up. I would argue that it’s not always Mom’s fault that we’re running late. I rarely lose track of my shoes or my jacket, after all. But our fourth grader would be only too happy to tell you that Mom often insists on finishing a full cup of coffee.
Whatever the reason, we almost always leave the house in a rush.
The other day as we were finally driving up to the school, adrenaline pumping, I said, “Look at the clock! We’re not that late. We’ve been much later than this.”
From the back seat came an exasperated sigh.
“Mom,” he said, “you need a better sense of time.”
A better sense of time.
It’s probably true. I tend to think we can do more in less time than is possible. I often misjudge what I can accomplish. I blame my optimism. I’m always sure we will fit everything in, positive that the stars will align just right, trusting that all the things on our list will somehow get done.
Some days, though, the clock tells a different story.
As I watched our long-legged 10-year-old leap out of the car with his backpack over one shoulder and his hair styled just so, his words echoed in my ears: You need a better sense of time.
It’s true, I thought. Maybe I do need a better sense of time. Maybe I need to realize how quickly it’s passing. I need to recognize that this little boy is not so little and is growing taller every day. I’ll blink and he won’t need me to drive him to school; he’ll be on the middle school bus. I’ll blink again and he’ll be driving himself. I’ll blink again and he’ll be away at school, then living away from home, then maybe driving his own little ones to school.
It all goes so fast. There aren’t enough minutes in the morning to dawdle over breakfast or finish that cup of coffee. But there will have to be just enough time to soak in these childhoods as they’re flying by.
I do need a better sense of time. But what I need even more is to treasure what a gift every moment is.
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