Monday, February 15, 2010

Enough Time

Our lists can grow so long--toilets that need cleaning, dishes that need washing, clothes that need folding, scrapbooks that need...everything, and most importantly people that need loving. Meanwhile our minds become weary at the thought of it all. Our gaze drops to this earthly realm and we compare our accomplished tasks to those of others, and we wonder if we missed something.

But the burden of our gracious Lord is light.

We all have 24 hours in a day--86,400 seconds--and we have enough time to do that which God intends for us to do. His burden is light. He does not pile heavy heaps onto our shoulders. His list for Monday does not overwhelm or bind. So why do we sometimes feel overloaded?

Sometimes when my kids go down for naptime and I am tempted to whirl through the house like a tornado, I picture the great cloud of witnesses--as mentioned in the book of Hebrews--watching and responding. As the hands on the clock become covered in non-essentials, I imagine them calling me back to the foundation of love. As I choose to submit to His guidance, I sense them cheering me on.

This life is so short. I want to spend my time doing the things He has for me rather than filling my seconds with my own agenda. I am far from perfect--if only you could see my times of impatience and poor communication. They exist more often than I like to admit. But I am learning that the only place of abundance is found in Him and His plan for my days.

We have enough time to do that which He has for us to do. Sometimes His plan includes scrubbing the baseboards, and most often does not--promise to never look at mine. We simply need to learn how to discern.

Teach us to hear Your voice, o Lord.

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2 comments:

To Think is to Create said...

So true, our priorities get so caught up in the bike spokes of the mundane. We need to put on the brakes and re-asses. Often, and if you're me, non-stop. :)

lara said...

I like that, "the bike spokes of the mundane." That is exactly what it can feel like at times. Like my shoelaces have become tangled in the expectations of this world...and perfectionism. Guilty.

 
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