You can feel it in the air, the feeling that the time needed to do all the things on our lists is less than the time left do them. It’s less than three weeks until Christmas. A quick glance at my calendar reveals how quickly these next weeks will fly by. I’d rather they didn’t. I’d rather I had some completely blank pages. I’d rather have time to really cherish all the upcoming special little moments.
Let me back up a month. At the beginning of November, I claimed November to be ‘National Month of Getting Stuff Done’. Spoiler alert: The day was only for us; I just used the word National to make it seem more official.
I’m not a hanger oner, so I was excited. Jim has a hard time parting with anything we might possibly need in the next couple of decades, so he was less enthused, but still on board. So, November found us periodically, bit by bit, sorting through outgrown toys in the basement, excess books on the crowded bookshelves and no longer worn clothes in our closets. I tackled the pantry and my knitting and sewing supplies. Jim sorted through some of the piles of paperwork that had built up in his office.
It felt fantastic!
The idea had been that if we could put all this behind us in November, we would be free to really settle in and enjoy the lead up to Christmas. Whenever I clear out some of our excess, I feel like I can breathe easier. There aren’t so many things hanging on the hooks in my mind, leaving me with more room to be creative. I more fully appreciate what I have. I think when we have too much stuff, when we’re just staring at it all the time, it’s impossible to love it all.
It’s the same with special events. If we’re not careful, if we forget to be intentional as we rush from one thing to another trying to fit it all in, one thing blends into the next and at the end of it all our memories resemble the piles of the wrapping paper that often cover the living room floor on Christmas morning. It’s a blurry mess.
Many years ago, in the spring of his final high school year, our son, Greg, was honoured with several very special awards. These were in addition to the awards he received at the academic and athletic awards ceremonies. Proud parents were we as we rearranged our already full schedules to attend luncheons, and evening events. One evening, upon returning home from one of the special celebrations, I busied myself preparing for the next day, while Jim headed for his office. I had barely begun to organize the next day when I stopped. I went to the door of Jim’s office, stood in the doorway and asked him to come with me. I asked him to put on his shoes, and out the door we went for a walk in the final minutes of sunlight. We lived in the country at this time, and the sun was beginning to make moves to set behind the Rocky Mountains. It was a beautiful peaceful evening.
Jim asked, ‘What’s up?’
I told him that it felt like we were just rushing from one thing to the next, unable to really let it all soak in. I talked about how special it was, that our son was being honoured for his hard work and for his contributions to not only his school but to the city. I said I felt we needed to slow down for a few minutes, to feel our pride, and to be grateful to be part of this time of his life. After all, in a few short months Greg would head off to university, far away from home. These special days were growing short.
I don’t know what gave me the wisdom to pause that evening, but I’m so grateful we did. I can picture our evening walk as though it were only yesterday, and I call upon that memory whenever I get that same feeling of rushing from one thing to another without really grounding myself in the moment.
While the calendar has turned the page from November, and while we did accomplish much during our ‘National Month of Getting Stuff Done’, we’re far from the place of putting our feet up and just enjoying. As I think back upon that June evening when we were too busy to pause, but did it anyway, I realize we’re all entering that kind of season again. It’s so easy to think our chore list, our ‘to do’ list, is the most important thing. But this I know for sure, even when we work for an entire month to ensure we can be present, our calendar still fills up, and somehow our list of ‘to do’s’ doesn’t seem much smaller.
The only way we can fully be present, is if we choose to pause, and to become intentional about fully grounding ourselves in the moments we deem to be the important ones. This week I had two of those.
One evening this week as I was working hard on a Christmas project, I took a minute, as I always do, to check the pictures that Kaitlyn so faithfully posts of the boys every day so we can be part of their daily lives. On this day was a picture of little Ben, sitting at the kitchen table, elf hat on, carefully printing his letter to Santa. I just stared at it. These are the magic years for those boys. The years when they can almost hear the bells of Santa’s sleigh. I wanted to stop time, I wanted this stage to stay with us forever. But I knew it would not. And I also knew all my hurrying putting pressure on myself to finish my self-chosen project, would in no way, add to the magic of Christmas.
So I chose to just sit there, and to soak up that beautiful picture.
Let me back up a month. At the beginning of November, I claimed November to be ‘National Month of Getting Stuff Done’. Spoiler alert: The day was only for us; I just used the word National to make it seem more official.
I’m not a hanger oner, so I was excited. Jim has a hard time parting with anything we might possibly need in the next couple of decades, so he was less enthused, but still on board. So, November found us periodically, bit by bit, sorting through outgrown toys in the basement, excess books on the crowded bookshelves and no longer worn clothes in our closets. I tackled the pantry and my knitting and sewing supplies. Jim sorted through some of the piles of paperwork that had built up in his office.
It felt fantastic!
The idea had been that if we could put all this behind us in November, we would be free to really settle in and enjoy the lead up to Christmas. Whenever I clear out some of our excess, I feel like I can breathe easier. There aren’t so many things hanging on the hooks in my mind, leaving me with more room to be creative. I more fully appreciate what I have. I think when we have too much stuff, when we’re just staring at it all the time, it’s impossible to love it all.
It’s the same with special events. If we’re not careful, if we forget to be intentional as we rush from one thing to another trying to fit it all in, one thing blends into the next and at the end of it all our memories resemble the piles of the wrapping paper that often cover the living room floor on Christmas morning. It’s a blurry mess.
Many years ago, in the spring of his final high school year, our son, Greg, was honoured with several very special awards. These were in addition to the awards he received at the academic and athletic awards ceremonies. Proud parents were we as we rearranged our already full schedules to attend luncheons, and evening events. One evening, upon returning home from one of the special celebrations, I busied myself preparing for the next day, while Jim headed for his office. I had barely begun to organize the next day when I stopped. I went to the door of Jim’s office, stood in the doorway and asked him to come with me. I asked him to put on his shoes, and out the door we went for a walk in the final minutes of sunlight. We lived in the country at this time, and the sun was beginning to make moves to set behind the Rocky Mountains. It was a beautiful peaceful evening.
Jim asked, ‘What’s up?’
I told him that it felt like we were just rushing from one thing to the next, unable to really let it all soak in. I talked about how special it was, that our son was being honoured for his hard work and for his contributions to not only his school but to the city. I said I felt we needed to slow down for a few minutes, to feel our pride, and to be grateful to be part of this time of his life. After all, in a few short months Greg would head off to university, far away from home. These special days were growing short.
I don’t know what gave me the wisdom to pause that evening, but I’m so grateful we did. I can picture our evening walk as though it were only yesterday, and I call upon that memory whenever I get that same feeling of rushing from one thing to another without really grounding myself in the moment.
While the calendar has turned the page from November, and while we did accomplish much during our ‘National Month of Getting Stuff Done’, we’re far from the place of putting our feet up and just enjoying. As I think back upon that June evening when we were too busy to pause, but did it anyway, I realize we’re all entering that kind of season again. It’s so easy to think our chore list, our ‘to do’ list, is the most important thing. But this I know for sure, even when we work for an entire month to ensure we can be present, our calendar still fills up, and somehow our list of ‘to do’s’ doesn’t seem much smaller.
The only way we can fully be present, is if we choose to pause, and to become intentional about fully grounding ourselves in the moments we deem to be the important ones. This week I had two of those.
One evening this week as I was working hard on a Christmas project, I took a minute, as I always do, to check the pictures that Kaitlyn so faithfully posts of the boys every day so we can be part of their daily lives. On this day was a picture of little Ben, sitting at the kitchen table, elf hat on, carefully printing his letter to Santa. I just stared at it. These are the magic years for those boys. The years when they can almost hear the bells of Santa’s sleigh. I wanted to stop time, I wanted this stage to stay with us forever. But I knew it would not. And I also knew all my hurrying putting pressure on myself to finish my self-chosen project, would in no way, add to the magic of Christmas.
So I chose to just sit there, and to soak up that beautiful picture.
A similar thing happened on Friday, when Andy was here for his regular Gramma day. He had been playing in the living room, as he often loves to do. Suddenly, I noticed I couldn’t hear him and hadn’t heard him in a few minutes so I quietly went in to check. There was Andy, laying peacefully under the Christmas tree, looking up at all the sparkling lights and ornaments. Satisfied he was fine, I could have headed back to the kitchen where I’d been cleaning up breakfast. But instead, I chose to just sit quietly, and watch him taking in the magic of that tree.
These years will not come again, nor will these moments. I wish for all of us the wisdom to notice when we should simply stop hurrying, slow down and take a small moment to breathe in the beauty of this wonderful season.
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to hurry up and slow down.
These years will not come again, nor will these moments. I wish for all of us the wisdom to notice when we should simply stop hurrying, slow down and take a small moment to breathe in the beauty of this wonderful season.
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to hurry up and slow down.
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