on what time reveals

Even though I’m moving toward consulting in the area of “life management,” I have to admit I still struggle with managing my own time. I am not rich. I am a single mother with a full time (and challenging) job and I am homeschooling a 10-year-old while completing my MBA. I try to stay fit and healthy, see friends, watch an occasional movie, cook an occasional meal. But it’s a huge struggle and I don’t pretend to do anything well.

Oddly enough, I’ve had some “gaps” in my schedule this week, and it’s interesting what they reveal. I had a corporate finance midterm on Wednesday and I had taken three days off to study for it. Six weeks into the semester I hadn’t opened the book, so I was frightened I could fail the test – I wondered if I was sabotaging the MBA with only two classes to go, etc. After work on Friday, I cleared my decks for five days, vowing to do nothing but write up my notes from a recent interview and study corporate finance. I did not practice yoga, I did not go to the gym, or read with my son. (When I have a big project, or when I’m studying, I’m not only “unschooling,” I am “unparenting.”)

But my awareness is growing and what I learned this time around is that one can only do so much corporate finance in a day – the rest of the time, if it’s not planned, gets wasted. I should have gotten up and practiced yoga as usual, I should have tried to work a few hours each day, and I should have found some time to read with my son.

On Thursday, I took the day off. It was unplanned, I woke up not feeling well, and since I had not been to the office all week, I thought, why not. It was the strangest day I have experienced in a long time. My perception of time was completely altered by the lack of a “to do” list, etc. I don’t remember a day passing so slowly. It’s not that I accomplished nothing – I set up two blogs at Dreamhost (a professional blog, in development, and a project blog, which I should start working on very soon), bought new running shoes (made in USA shoes from a cool, local merchant), hung out with my son, and read an interesting study of young musicians by Shasha Dubrow (in preparation for my careers seminar).

Last night I had plans to see a friend but it turns out he got sick and cancelled, another “gap” in my schedule. This is a good friend and I don’t see nearly enough of him so I was a bit disappointed. Still, in an ordinary week, I might appreciate the “gift of time.” However, this was not an ordinary week, and I had had enough of filling in the blanks. I couldn’t bring myself to work so I spent the night visiting blogs, etc. Part of thinking through my own projects, but allowing myself to be distracted, and even to pause, as I did here, on Sam Crane’s blog.

I did not know the story of Aidan and I had to read through every article on Sam’s website before making my way to Amazon to order the book, Aidan’s Way. Very difficult reading, so why, when I came upon the story of parenting a profoundly disabled a child – a child who does not walk or talk or see – didn’t I move on, to happier things. I can’t explain what kept me there – it wasn’t schadenfreude (I was reading through tears), though I did find myself counting my blessings, and appreciating, just a tiny bit more, the kid I have.

I found myself in awe, of Sam, his wife, his daughter. Or maybe, not to sensationalize it, I should define what I felt as “deep respect.” This is not a kid who should have lived to be fourteen and it’s very clear (not having read the book) what kept him alive was love. Love demands but it gives in return. If we’re too busy resenting the demands of love, we are not open to its gifts.

It’s hard to get at what enabled Sam and his wife to love their child in the way they did, to see from where they drew their strength. I’m not sure I could have done it, that I could have opened my heart to such a child. I think I would have shut down, grown bitter, angry. When I think of Sam bathing his son every morning for 14 years, while going on being – teacher, husband, father – I wonder why I can’t commit to my own daily rituals, to read alouds, etc.?

I have a difficult child, a child not always easy to love. I guess with a child like Aidan, you can’t get angry, except at God. You have no choice but to love him because you can’t rightly expect him to be other than who he is. Sometimes, with our kids, we have to let go of our expectations, make room for what is. Because it could be worse.

I am not very productive with my downtime, and I hope to change that. But not at the expense of my capacity to love.