Someone slow this ship down!

Wow...ever since Ladybug began kinder, life has just turned into a blur.

I guess you could say that the Duke and I had the unique opportunity years ago to adjust our parenting perspective. Well, to adjust our everything perspective. Back in the day when Ladybug was an infant, she was diagnosed with Hurler's Syndrome and we were told she wouldn't live until her first birthday. Pretty much falls into the category of some of the hardest news a parent could ever get.

We were devastated, called for prayer from every corner of the earth, and then turned our focus inside our little home, trying to squeeze a lifetime of enjoyment from the few short months we had left with our sweet baby. (I thought I could breeze through this story without too much fuss, but I'm officially covered in tears right now. Six years and it is still tough.) I mean, I seriously wanted to soak in every. single. second. It was physically painful leaving her side for any reason. The Duke would kiss us goodbye in the morning to head to work and I could tell it was just as horrible for him. We didn't want to miss a single facial expression, sound, or smile. It was all so precious.

Due to an intensive treatment the doctors had her on, she was up most of the night screaming and crying. We may have been the only parents on the planet happily up with a screaming baby at 3 a.m., smiling at her and enjoying holding her, knowing that the time was drawing near when we would long for those sleepless nights. It was like I had some sort of love force field - she could cry seventeen hours a day but I had never enjoyed anyone so much. I was able to see the day-by-day struggles with grateful eyes, and yet it was simultaneously the hardest time of my life as we lived on borrowed time.

(For those of you who don't know how the story ends - God gave us a miracle. The leading experts in the field were all completely baffled. One day she had Hurler's Syndrome, the next time, she didn't. It was strange, unexplained, and they ran every test in the book trying to figure out how it had happened. Still no word.)

It was then that The Duke and I had our entire world and perspective turned upside down. We began to cherish those little moments like never before - even after the diagnosis was withdrawn. We got a front row seat to how incredibly fragile life is and how to not take the little things for granted. I went years of never missing a single bedtime with Ladybug. There was something so special about each and every one.

Fast forward another few years and along came Panda. It is heartbreaking knowing you've missed so much of your little one's early life - his first smile, his first bedhead, his first time to crawl. I find myself often feeling that same urgency to capture every moment - pictures, videos, documenting it in anyway possible- there's just so much I don't want to miss. It is like trying to squeeze in extra memories to make up for lost time.

Presently, Ladybug has begun kindergarten. (She is alive, walking, talking, reading, socializing, misbehaving, loving, crying, and learning. It's just so incredible!)

But in the hustle and bustle that surrounds school, I have lost my perspective. I have allowed life to start flying by. Because that's what life does when left to its own devices. It blurs past us. It takes intention and a continual reevaluating our days to slow it down.

And so currently, I'm holding a merciless elimination round to our weekly commitments and our daily routine. Each day is full of good things - but packing my schedule full of good things tends to push out the most important things. Even Jesus said no to good things in order to accomplish the most important ones. I love studying how Jesus spent his time here on earth. It's fascinating. He could have easily run himself ragged healing and teaching, as both were so obviously needed. He could have over-packed His schedule with good things. But He understood the limitation of time, and He also understood what should take priority. He was diligent and hardworking, but He was always taking time to be alone with the Father. He even said a hard no to continuing His ministry here on earth so He could finish the thing He came for - the most important thing - going to Jerusalem to be killed and then raised again. In fact, He had a confrontation with Peter who tried to persuade Him otherwise. (Matthew 16:21-23) Jesus rebuked him saying, "You are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man."

Well, there it is. In these past few months in the midst of all of these wonderful activities, I have lost sight of the big picture. What really matters in the end? What does it all boil down to?  I want the time and mental energy to sit down enjoy the moment with my loved ones - making eye contact, genuinely laughing with them, crying with them, creating and talking and brainstorming with them. I want to love and enjoy them SLOWLY and stop all of the rushing! (Physical rushing and the mental rushing to which I am prone.)

Today, we will block out time after lunch to create a mile-long domino line instead of folding laundry. Tomorrow: we will do nothing, if even just for thirty minutes. And Sunday, we will clear our afternoon to just play board games. Have you ever noticed that if you don't reserve that time, it tends to disappear? Disappear for good things of course, but I would be willing to argue that playing Chutes and Ladders with my family, bonding and laughing together, showing our children their extreme value with our time and attention, would qualify as the best thing.