I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately.

Not the kind of time we measure by clocks or calendars, but the kind of time we seem to never have enough of.

There was a time in my life when I had plenty of it—or at least, I thought I did.

When I first moved into my own apartment, I would run the sweeper and dust every single day. I wanted everything to look perfect. Perfect for me. Perfect in case someone stopped by. Every surface had to be clean, every room picked up, and the same patterns from the vacuum cleaner that my mom left in the carpet. Growing up that was always our little sign that a room had been cleaned. And if you want to know why I felt this way, there was a room in our house that we weren’t allowed to go into, the formal living room. This room was only used when we had family over for holidays or special occasions. If there were footprints in this room after my mom cleaned and left her pattern in the rug, we had to pay her a quarter. I’m shaking my head and laughing as I’m typing this core memory from my childhood.

Then I had my first child.

My husband worked nights, and I would still run the sweeper and dust every evening after dinner. My son couldn’t have been more than two, and he would follow along behind me with a paper towel, pretending to dust right alongside me.

I smile when I think about that now.

We had glass tabletops in both our living room and kitchen, and every little fingerprint or spot seemed to drive me crazy.

Meanwhile, my husband was home with our son during the day while I was at work and some days would have all of our nieces and nephews. He would record family movies of them all playing, laughing and having a good time. I never came home to a messy house, so I was always shocked when I saw the videos he took during the day. The house was a disaster.

And the kids were having the time of their lives. He wasn’t worried about the fingerprints on the glass. He wasn’t worried about the toys scattered across the floor. He was enjoying the people in his life. My mom and my aunt would always tell me, the sweeping can wait, the dusting can wait, it will all still be there tomorrow. Enjoy the people in your life because that’s what truly matters. And yes, the same mother that charged us a quarter. But she had learned through life’s lessons. I don’t think I fully understood what they meant back then. I’m starting to now.

Yesterday, we spent the day with friends and family on a local island for their annual garage sale day. We drove around on golf carts, laughed, visited, and just enjoyed being together. Then we came home and settled in for some Saturday football.

As we drove around the island, I noticed people sitting on their porches. They weren’t rushing anywhere. They were just sitting, talking, watching the day go by and enjoying the beautiful weather. And I remember thinking, How wonderful would that be? Not because my life isn’t wonderful. It is. It’s just busy.

My life is a lot busier right now and I’m finding that there simply aren’t enough hours in my day to get everything done. So I’m learning to shift. I’m changing when I do things and how I do them. I’m figuring out what really needs to be done today and what can wait until tomorrow. And I’m reminding myself of what my mom and aunt tried to teach me all those years ago.

I don’t have to get it all done today. If friends come over and there are dishes in the sink, that’s okay. If there are still weeds in the garden, that’s okay. If there’s a load of laundry waiting to be folded and I want to sit down and read a few chapters of my book instead, that’s okay, too.

The dishes will still be there. The laundry will still be there. And yes, I’m pretty sure those weeds aren’t going anywhere. But this moment won’t always be here.

My son recently reminded me that the things that are currently consuming so much of my time are things I’ve prayed for—and received in this chapter of my life. That perspective changes things. So maybe the answer isn’t always finding more time. Maybe sometimes it’s learning to see the time we have differently.

This morning at church, I was reminded of the words, “The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

And as I go through my Sunday, checking things off my never-ending to-do list, I’m carrying those words with me. Because the strength to get through the hard things doesn’t come from doing more, cleaning more, organizing more or somehow managing to accomplish everything on my list.

It comes from trusting that God is present in all of it.

In the busy days.

In the unfinished work.

In the quiet moments.

In the mess.

And in the moments when we choose to put the dusting aside and sit on the porch, read the book, take the golf cart ride, watch the football game, or simply enjoy the people sitting beside us.

There will always be something that needs to be done.

The house will get messy again.

The laundry will pile up.

The garden will grow weeds.

There will always be tomorrow.

But we only get today once.

So maybe today, I’m going to let a few things wait.

And I’m going to remember what my mom and aunt knew all along:

The sweeping can wait.

The dusting can wait.

Life can’t.

Until next Sunday,

Kristen