Minutes are weird. Every single one is made the same way. Sixty seconds. No single minute is longer or shorter than another. However, some minutes seem to fly by while others drag on for what seems like forever.
My goal for the year is to be better at being still. It’s an art form that, frankly, I suck at. I’m a go-er and a do-er. I can multi-task like a boss. I can do a lot of things well. The challenge for me is in being still and quiet.
Because my family is precious and supports me in my goals (translation: I said, “hey guys, we are doing this new thing, ok?”), we are working on this “be still” thing together. In the evening-time we practice being still. We call it Quiet Time (brilliant, huh?).
In January, we would be still and quiet for 30 seconds each evening. In February, we increased it to one minute nightly. The plan is to increase it by 30 second intervals each month. No rules during quiet time except, you know, be quiet. You can pray or think about your day or sing a song in your head.
I know, I know. It sounds cheesy and kind of weird. For the record, it also FEELS cheesy and kind of weird. I’m pretty sure that’s because we aren’t good at it yet.
You guys, a minute lasts FOREVER. I bet I peek at the timer a dozen times during that minute, convinced that the battery has finally, really died this time. I feel like, in that single minute, I could plan my grocery list, fold a load of clothes, scrub a toilet or two, and paint my toenails. Maybe even solve global hunger. Who knows??
Fun fact about me: I am less than punctual. As in ALWAYS late. I generally wake up late and that just sets the tone for the day. I no longer get frazzled by it, it’s just my life. I’ve noticed though, that those pesky minutes seem to zoom by when I’m running late. I run out the door and blink and all of a sudden it’s time for the appointment/job/pick up time. Like, wait. What?! Where the heck did THOSE minutes go???
Whether I’m racing the clock or watching it tick slowly by, I’m learning that the minutes matter. The fast, speedy ones and the slow, crawly ones. Every single one matters. They all mush and glob together and turn into hours and those hours melt into days that turn into weeks and then months and then years. And then you’re sitting there, almost 35 years old, thinking, “crap, I’ve wasted so many minutes.”
I’m trying to make my minutes matter. Being still in some and being calm and kind in others. Being passionate. Being angry when I need to. Just being deliberate and mindful that although minutes seem to be somewhat insignificant, they’re actually what it’s all about.
Minutes matter. Let’s make them count.