Time. The clock keeps ticking. Seconds passing. Minutes inching forward.
“Finley, hurry up!”
I speak out these words as I know my young son is upstairs. Probably distracted. Doing something he shouldn’t. Something we don’t have time for while I rush to get out the door. As I watch the clock.
15 minutes to get to school.
“Hurry,” I call up the staircase. As anxiety grips me. As I catch my tongue from lashing out another demand at a child who doesn’t understand the pressure I feel or why.
Because he isn’t supposed to. Because he is a child. One I adore. A moment in time I see as precious. The blessing I get to live by and witness. The gift this child is.
I catch myself. Noticing the hypocrisy between my thoughts and my commands up the staircase. As I say, “hurry”, while realizing these moments are fleeting.
As everyday he grows in different directions. Toward different ways of independence. Different ways into who he will be. Guiding him different ways from me.
As I feel the urge once again to yell, “Hurry.” I stop. Realizing in every other way except this one, this single example, I don’t want him to rush.
I don’t want any of these moments to pass us by because they already move too fast.
As I stand here, feeling the need to speed up, I realize, I myself, don’t want to.
I want to take the time to soak up every moment, milestone, every annoying frustration or mundane thought.
Do I really wish to ‘hurry” when everything in me wants to slow down?
Is that what the anxiety is? Making it to school or missing what is left? What is right in front of me. This one moment right now. In these precious years of childhood I get to witness and experience by his side. This gift.
I change both my language and my tone.
“School starts in 15 minutes.”
Hopefully explaining, through information and facts, our need in this moment to get moving. A moment in time I still see as precious.
While acknowledging the words I really wish to speak, “Take your time. With both moving though and growing up.”
Accepting the fact I too don’t want to hurry. I too don’t want to rush. Mindful to let the clock keep ticking while soaking up every second of his walk out the door.
