Saturday, December 18, 2010


Time. It's such a precious resource and yet I use it so wastefully. Yes, there are moments when I know I'm using my time to make a difference-- when I take the time to call someone who's had a rough day, when I purposely smile at a stranger that looks sad, when I stop what I'm doing on the computer to chase Amirah around the living room and let her giggles fill my soul. I don't do it enough though. I also use precious time to mindlessly google things. I use precious time to dwell on how someone offended me. I use precious time to watch TV, even when it's not that interesting.

Two days ago a friend of mine lost her life in a car accident, leaving behind a husband and three beautiful daughters. I try to imagine what life would have been like for Dad and his three girls if we had lost our mom, and I just can't do it. She didn't know it would be her last day. Never even entertained the possibility.

Today when I layed Amirah down for her nap she cried and cried. I listened to it for a few minutes and it didn't sound like she was settling. I went up to her room and scooped her up from her crib and began rocking her. Within minutes she was fast asleep. I breathed her in. She smelled a little like the bananas she had for breakfast and a bit like the formula she had spilled on her pajamas, but you know what? It was perfect! She smelled like life. Like she had been living. Sometimes when I'm experiencing a beautiful moment like the one where my baby girl falls asleep in my arms, I purposely stop and breathe in the moment, and like Mary I treasure it in my heart. Life is bound to get tough and I may need that beautiful moment to get me through a rough patch.

My time will not be wasted today! It's just too precious!


  1. Thank you for this reminder. Lately it seems that everywhere I turn there is tragedy and heartbreak. I've been holding my children a little tighter too.

  2. Well said! I try to remember those same "Mary ponderings" as I try to rock Isaac back to sleep and it's 4a.m. or when I feel kicks and punches and squirms from our miracle baby boy, yet to make his appearance . . . I try to cherish and not worry or wish time away. Love you! Thinking of Erica and all the girls - wishing there was more I could do to take away their hurt. . . I ache for them.