If I took 10 minutes a day to spend on each thing that only needs 10 minutes a day... I would never sleep.
Friends, I want to write. Every day. I want to be a writer. I want to blog every day, to keep journals of the things that my kids do, to keep my own private journal, to write letters to my husband. I have heard such kind words from some of you about writing a book. Thank you. Yes, it's here, that book, in my head. Tossing and turning, wanting to come out. Every day.
Do you know what else I want to do every day? I want to have a clean house--laundry folded, dishes done, beds made, toys put away. I want to scrapbook--pictures printed, journaling written, memories captured. I want to play the piano, to practice what I preach to my students. I want to exercise, to lose the
Every day. All of those things.
I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to give time to all of the things that are in me and around me, calling me. I don't have enough "10 minutes" in me.
A few months ago--I may have blogged about it at the time, I can't remember--a wise woman told me not to be busy, but to be intentional. To make choices about how I spend my time based on what God has laid on my heart, not based on who asks first. I love this. This is who I want to be. When my children grow up, I want them to remember me as intentional.
I'm trying. I'm trying to make choices--sometimes hard choices--that allow me to be more intentional with my time. I'm saying no to things that are good, because I know that those things aren't necessarily the best. Just because I don't have anything on my calendar doesn't mean I have to fill it with the first thing to come along.
I don't know if that really solves my "10 minute" problem. There are still so many things on that list that I want to do, I want them to be part of my intentional life. I still don't know how to fit them all in.
But I do know this: Two weeks ago, Mr. Fantastic asked me (a very tearful, emotional me), "What is one thing I can do to help you? What do you need most right now?"
And without a moment's hesitation, I answered, "I need to write. I need you to help me carve out time to write."
I need it. On so many levels, for so many reasons. I need to write.
And so I will write. Every day. I'm not promising to blog every day--I've made that promise before, and I think we can all agree that didn't go especially well. But I will write something every day. A note to my kids, a journal entry, a blog post, a poem. Something.
How do I fit in all of the things I want to do every day? I have no idea. But I know how to start: with one thing. Right now, this is my one thing.