Right in front of me

I'm forgetting. I'm not writing it down, not here, not anywhere, and I'm forgetting all the cute things they say, the ways they make me laugh, the ways they make me think.

I'm forgetting, and then I'm feeling guilty for forgetting, for failing to process with words, for failing to download (or even take) any pictures. And we all know what a productive response guilt is, right?

So then....no kidding....I berate myself for feeling guilty, tell myself to let it go, to allow myself the freedom of not keeping up. With everything. Perfectly. All the time.

But instead of allowing the aforementioned freedom, I feel guilty about feeling guilty. (And this is the part of the show when I start hearing Seth Meyers' voice in my head on repeat: "Really?! Seeeriously? You think it's a good idea to fight guilt with guilt? Reeeeally...")

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I've been thinking lately about the way I'm wired, how I gravitate toward structure and that which can be measured (but please only measure it if it means I come out ahead). How I shy away from the subjective investments, the unquantifiable expenditures of time--like throwing the football with him or playing doll house with her or cuddling just-one-more-minute with them both. Like choosing to sit and engage in eye-to-eye conversation instead of loading the dishwasher while tossing in the obligatory "uh huh" at regular intervals.

This internal drift toward structure and efficiency and measurement--it's a fine way to be wired if you're running a department at a faceless corporation. But it's no way to run a home.

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When my friend asked me how she could pray for me this week, I told her that I had a to-do list threatening to overwhelm me, but not to pray that I would get it all done. I asked her to pray that I would keep my trivial to-do list in perspective, that I would regard relationship more important than accomplishment, put people ahead of tasks.

Because even someone as wire-crossed as me, someone foolish enough to waste emotional energy feeling guilty about feeling guilty, even I know what really matters. What really, seriously, (yes, Seth, reeeally.) truly matters. 

And it's right in front of me.

If it weren't for Heather and her simple yet brilliant Just Write idea, I'm not sure I would still have a blog. So here I go again, linking up for another installment.