At 6:00 in the morning, it is time to rouse the masses. There are breakfasts to be made, snacks to be packed, assignment notebooks to be checked, teeth to brush, coffee to be brewed (For Heaven’s sake, don’t forget the coffee!), Spiderman blankets to be smoothed over bunk beds, buses to catch. In the short calm that settles when husbandandsons are out the door for the day, there are e-mails to be answered, book launch inquiries to send, and dentist appointments to be scheduled. Throughout the day, there are chores to be done, masterpieces to be pressed out of Play-Doh, boo boos to be kissed, lunch to be made and then cleaned up after, stories to be read, potty training to practice, and a grandmother who sometimes needs to be chauffeured to various local destinations. All of which I am happy to have the chance to do, but it takes time.
By 3:30, the boys are off the bus. I gather my hugs and kisses, my tales of the day’s escapades in first and third grade, my requests for food. And then more food. I play. I answer math questions. I prep supper.
I love when my husband gets home. We’re besties. But this also means that it is time to round everyone up to the table. I have help, but I am the ringmaster, which can be tiring in itself. Next comes cleanup–dishes and tiny bodies both. Bedtime stories! Prayer. If these things are not happening, it means it is my night to get out for my fitness classes, another thing for which it is not easy to find time.
The point is, if you “try to find time” for something you want to do, it won’t be there. The day to day necessities of being a person (mother or not, employed outside the home or not, married or not!) will take up every minute of your day if you allow it to happen.
I do not find time to write. I make it.
I do not find time to pray, or study, or exercise. I make it.
It means putting other things on hold sometimes, considering my priorities. No, Lissa, now is not a good time to catch up on Hart of Dixie (or whatever other current obsession I am indulging in). You haven’t written your 1,000 words today.
Now I’m not pretending to know what things in your life should take priority over another. That’s for you to decide. And I am certainly not trying to imply that making time is easy for me. It is not. It is so difficult that sometimes I wonder why I even try. But then somebody tells me they’ve finished reading my book, and that it made them feel something, and when will there be something else for them to read?
That is why I make time. To create. To share something that is real and intimate. To connect.