Carving Out the Moment

I've been pretty quiet on the blog this month. A friend who is a regular reader recently expressed concern that perhaps something was bothering me because otherwise I would be blogging more.

There's a lot on my mind these days, true, but that is not what has kept me from writing. Other demands on my time have kept me from writing. Family demands, work demands, community demands, medical demands. It is United Way time. The March concert is fast approaching, followed swiftly by the May concert (the major concert this season). Final arrangements are being made for a repeat benefit concert for our local food pantry.

There are seedlings to start soon.

In short, life is humming and things are moving pretty quickly around our homestead. Quick as I can be when necessary, my pace is nothing compared to Warren's at this time of year. (This time of year? Any time of year!) Hummingbirds have nothing on him for speed.

Warren and I start each weekday by exchanging emails. I send one over to his office first thing in the morning, often while he is still shaving. When I come in from walking or swimming, I usually have one from him waiting in my inbox.

They are just small notes touching on the day, our marriage, our life. Love notes, really. For me, they are just a little way to anchor the day and to let Warren know what he means to me. Starting my day writing a note to my husband helps me focus on us.

Starting my day writing a note to my husband allows me to carve out a moment of quiet thoughtfulness in the rumble of the daily schedule.

Sometimes, more so lately, the emails reflect our busyness. I might write a flamboyant Zooooooooom! in my note, as a commentary on our schedules. This morning, feeling the press of time, knowing what the next several weeks hold, I wrote:

Hold tight to my hand and never let go. Or, if you must (let go), wait for me in the clearing up ahead. I'll be along shortly.

I was thinking of the calendar, thinking of our respective "to do" lists, thinking of how much has to get done between now and the end of the day, as well as between tonight and the end of the weekend. Life is sometimes a blur and I just wanted to say "if you get too far ahead of me, wait a moment and I'll catch up."

I went swimming this morning after breakfast. When I got to the locker room and unpacked my bag, I found this tucked between my towels:

One of the many joys of this marriage is that we are often on the same wavelength even before we exchange a single word. This morning was one of those times. In the midst of the whirl, in the midst of the rush, we each carved out a moment just for us.