When I was a young mother, my brother used to love to sit back and wait to see how many things I could do at once.
I could hold a baby, iron a shirt and talk on the phone at the same time. I could pick things up with my toes when I didn’t want to disturb the sleeping child in my lap and couldn’t reach the object with my hand.
Four children in six years, breastfeeding, homeschooling and taking care of all the household chores meant that I got pretty darn good at keeping multiple balls in the air at the same time.
Those days are over.
Like so many things at this point in my life I don’t know how much of what I experience and feel is a function of getting older (definitely middle aged here!) and how much is attributable to grief following the death of Dominic.
But this I do know: I am only able to focus on a single task, thought, desire or problem at a time. If I try to multi-task, I might as well cry, “Uncle!” from the start.
It’s a little discouraging.
Often I feel like I’ve wasted an hour or a day or even a week. What exactly did I get done?
But it’s also a kind of freedom.
My household isn’t nearly as busy as it once was so there’s really no need to rush from here to there or stack task on top of task.
I’m learning that taking time, talking to people for as long as they need me, doing something well even if I don’t do it quickly are all perfectly acceptable ways to spend a day.
And while I miss so much of who I was before Dominic ran ahead to heaven, I don’t miss the frantic craziness of trying to do too much in too little time.
I will receive THIS change as a gift.