Thursdays are my crazy days. The boys have loads of schoolwork, the Lady has ballet, Boy 1 has baseball practice, I have to prep for community group (cook, clean up, etc), then we have forty or so wonderful people descend at dinnertime. All this happens in the midst of life’s usual unexpected messes and unforseen events. It’s a lot.
Someone (I can’t remember who) once told me they no longer used the phrase “I’m busy”, because someone told them that B.U.S.Y. stood for “Being Under Satan’s Yoke”.
I think about this on Thursdays, as I am busy doing all of these things that I know are good, important, and worthwhile.
Christians say some crazy things sometimes.
I understand the thought behind being purposeful, not busy. I get that my friend intended to keep her heart open to all that God wanted her to do, and not fill her life with “busy-ness”. However, deleting the word “busy” from my lexicon won’t govern my heart, keep me in the will of God, or make my schedule more manageable.
Only my own focus on Jesus can still the frantic push of my Thursday schedule.
I take a deep breath, laugh when cereal spills all over the floor, then I remind the ninjas who are jumping on beds that it is time for a math lesson. I wash ballet clothes and search for the missing library book while planning dinner for an army. I quickly type emails to teachers, print maps of Central America, and fold piles of laundry.
And all day long I pray, “Jesus, this is Your day. I am trusting You to pull it all together. Thank you for the children and the activities and the fun and the friends. All this is a blessing.”
Being busy is the result of an abundance of blessings.
Remembering that makes all that I carry suddenly seem very light.
I love being busy.
