Still

Growing up in a family of diehard Red Sox fans, we had a standing agreement: if the Red Sox ever actually did manage to win the World Series, we were going to Boston to dance in the streets and celebrate.

Fast-forward to 2004, and the unthinkable actually happened. The Red Sox won. Only, when it came time for the party, I quickly realized no one else was really keen on keeping their word. I, meanwhile, was ready. So, after extending several invitations to family and friends and getting no takers, I headed out alone in the dim early morning light to Boston that late October morning to party with a million other people.

The crowds were thick but jubilant. The people-watching was superb. I was having a blast -- until the parade of Red Sox players actually came rumbling near. This is it, this is the moment we've been waiting for forever, I kept thinking, juggling my ancient video camera and my regular camera. I kept trying to switch from video to still pictures and back again. The results weren't too pretty, in the end. Some of the pictures are blurry and the video is shaky enough to make you nauseous.

Even as I was doing all of my clicking and filming, I was thinking, I need to just stop. I'm so busy trying to capture the moment, I'm missing the moment.


Lately, I've realized how much I'm always running. I can't help but think there's a lot of people out there who feel the same way.

Ethan's few hours in preschool are rarely a break for me -- they are a time to make a mad dash to write freelance articles, pay bills, run outside and rake a few bags of leaves, make phone calls, fold laundry.

Some of this is just life, I know. But I can't help but think something is "off" when there's never a moment I can just sink into the couch and not think about a million things.

Something is out of balance when I'm awake in the middle of the night thinking of calls I forgot to make or emails I forgot to write.

Something's not right if I can't lay down my broom and just play and tickle and laugh with the kids for awhile.

The holidays are upon us and we all know that ramps up the busy-ness factor by about a thousand. And those of us who feel we need to "do it all" somehow find a way to do a lot more. Sometimes the "doing" has the best of intentions -- like creating new family traditions; trying to reach out to those in need; even making sure we hold on to the true meaning of the Christmas season.

But at some point, at least for me, there has to be less doing and more being. Being in the moment. Being still. Rather than being all things to all people.

As much as I love to write, I've learned that sometimes this blog becomes not just me writing about a snapshot from our lives but rather constantly looking for blogable (is that a word?) moments. And when I'm so busy looking for the message of a moment and how I'd write about it, I'm still not learning...

to be still.

to rest.

And so, I think I may be writing a little less and taking care of myself more. I think it's the kind of gift we could all use this Christmas.

 "Be still and know that I am God." -- Psalm 46:10