Hurry, hurry. Wait, wait. Hurry, hurry. Wait, wait.

That seems to be life these days. The treadmill of hurry to get things done in the gaps. I’m all for focusing on my kids, which means that game of Candy Land, that 800th nursing session each morning, that game of tickle on the bed all take priority over the laundry, the dishes, the laundry, the blogging, the dirty floors, the dusty bookshelves and (did I mention?) the laundry. When there is a pause in the action, a blessed moment of self-directed play for peanut and nap time for pumpkin, it’s a hurried rush to accomplish something in one of those categories.

Hurry, hurry. Wait, wait. Hurry, hurry. Wait, wait.

Today, I started the morning feeling guilty. Guilty if I skipped working out to get some much needed (you guessed it) laundry done. Guilty if I skipped the laundry to get the work out done. Then pumpkin solved it for me by going down for a nap, so laundry it was. I hurried through changing the loads. I hurried through a shower. I hurried through emptying the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen. Hurry, hurry. It’s hard to know how long these little naps will last and there was so much to get done while peanut was occupied at school.

Then, wait, wait. Pumpkin awoke. Time to eat. It’s hard to rush a kid through nursing so I let him go until the last possible moment. Putting diaper changes and mama’s own pit stop on hold, we rushed out the door, hoping to not be the last in the pick-up line like last week.

Hurry, hurry. Waiting for the traffic. Waiting for the light to change. Hurry, hurry.

Then pause.

A funeral procession was approaching in the oncoming lane. I’ve only witnessed this in the south, although I’m sure it’s not uncommon elsewhere: we stopped. It didn’t matter how many cars it would take, or how late it might make me. This stranger and their family deserved, in the midst of their grief and loss, perhaps commenting on the cliche of the drizzly, overcast skies, my respect.

I stopped.

And in that moment felt peace. Peace that in my hurry, hurry life there are still beautiful moments of pause. Moments when your priorities are clear, your distractions few and the laundry isn’t an issue. I don’t know who that procession was for, but I hope they know that they touched a harried driver on Northside Drive this morning and caused her to pause.

One thought on “Pause

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