I don’t know why it is that I’m always so busy.
Well, I take that back. I mean, stupid comment, right? I have eight children, my husband owns his own business, and I homeschool. So I suppose I don’t really mean that I wonder why I’m always so busy. But I am starting to question why I’m always too busy.
You know how sometimes you give an instruction to a child, and you find yourself stammering, “Char—I mean Bob—I mean Sam—oh my gosh, you know who you are, just GET OVER HERE!” It’s like the old Bill Cosby joke where the mother calls the child by the wrong name, and finally gets frustrated and says, “What is your name, boy? And don’t lie to me, because you live here, and I’ll find out!” I used to laugh at myself for that, the calling wrong names while on the computer or pulling hot pans from the oven or reading or whatever. I’d tell myself that everyone else does it, too, and once in awhile even the children call me “dad” if they’re in a hurry. And then all of a sudden it struck me one day . . . I’m calling them the wrong name because I’m not paying any attention to what I’m doing. Certainly I’m not giving any true consideration to the child I’m supposedly instructing.
(This is just a teaser . . . you can read the rest of my article by clicking here, at HeartofTheMatter !)