It’s noon and I’m jumping in the car to go grab a spur-of-the-moment donut. Boston Crème. Every time. And I get a text message from a new friend.
I’m in the drive-thru when I hear her voice pop up in my head and on my phone and she wants to know what I’m doing for lunch tomorrow. She suggests sushi.
I do not like sushi.
Not even a little bit.
I don’t like to feel like my food may be making eye contact with me.
But I like my friend. She’s a new friend and getting to know her is one of my favorite things. I remember this when she texts me again, “All I want is your time. I want to talk about God and life and writing and success and failure and moving on and being strong.”
And there it is.
It was never about the sushi.
It was about the raw time. The biggest gift we can give each other.
Being willing to spend uninterrupted hours together. We need so much more than that. Because we’ll all starve on a diet of 140-character tweets and Facebook updates.
It’s about being able to sit across the table from each other and talk about what success and failure mean and how we survive both. It’s about being able to dig into our lives and sift through the ordinary in order to really connect beyond the default, “I’m fine.”
It’s about being willing to be interrupted.
If motherhood has taught me one thing it’s how much I dislike being interrupted. How selfish I am with my time. How much I want to hoard it. You think I’m kidding? My ideal Mother’s Day weekend would not involve my kids. It would involve me, a hotel room, a king size bed, Netflix on a loop, and lots of room service.
Motherhood has exploded my personal space, demanded my 24-7 attention and deprived me of sleep for a decade. And if I’m honest it’s made me resent interruptions. All I want most nights is for the kids to leave me alone once I’ve tucked them in so I can enjoy some “me” time.
It’s been like breaking up with myself — becoming a mother. Breaking up with all those parts of my uninterrupted, totally self-involved life that I 100% adored.
But thank God (literally) for interrupting me and saving me from myself. I so often think of Him now as the “God of interruptions.” You only have to look at a day in the life of Jesus to see the consistent, steady stream of interruptions that followed Him everywhere He went. His plans were constantly derailed and His time and space eaten up by the people around Him.
That was His whole plan. That was intentional.
He intentionally moved into our neighborhood and proceeded to make Himself utterly available to the people around Him.
I’m a slow learner.
I forget all the time that my relationships thrive on time and that it wasn’t even mine to begin with. God spoke days and nights and seconds and hours into being and then He gifted them to us. Along with the wonder of the people around us.
I don’t want to hoard my time. I don’t want to ration it in dribs and drabs to a very few. I want to be generous on spending time on the people in my life. I get that we won’t have time for everyone, every day. But we all know good and well who the specific few are that we’ve been entrusted with. Who the relationships are that need our presence.
So let’s spend our time on them. Generously. The more the better.
For both our sakes.