Futility

I've been thinking about priorities lately. Reading books like Organized Simplicity inspires me to start up another round of un-stuff-ing, freeing my mind from the mental clutter as well as the physical tripping points. Increasing demands upon my time require* that something must go, and it's always a balancing act to keep my perspective grounded.

I want to spend more time with my children. Time invested in their lives is really the best spent, whereas all the busy-work of running the household has a peculiarly fatalistic quality to it: catch-up vacuuming and laundry is only marginally more time-consuming than the everyday variety. So I tell myself, and yet I really can't let the dishes and laundry slide too much. And ultimately, it just doesn't matter.

Ha! No, I'm not just being calm and accepting of less than perfection. It literally doesn't matter whether I think I'm caught up or not, because before the dishwasher or washing machine finishes the cycle, there will be more dirty dishes and soiled laundry. Just like Almanzo's fleece from Farmer Boy, I can never really keep up. And yet I keep trying.

The little incident that sparked all this introspection? While lately feeding the baby, I felt a suspicious warmth seep across my lap. I had just settled another load in the washer and graduated the last batch of soaking stains from the bin, and there was the momentary adrenaline rush to consider whether I should make a mad dash for the laundry room, strip all affected articles and stuff them in the washer in time to join the last cycle. And then I decided that it just didn't matter.

The leak was of the clear variety, not the yellow kind. It won't show. It doesn't stink. It will dry and the clothes will be good for another wearing.

People keep asking how life is with four children. I think this will be my new equilibrium - not waving the white flag of Surrender, but clutching the pragmatic handkerchief of Enough.

* Or is it requires? Is it the demands themselves (and therefore plural), or the increasing-ness of them (and therefore singular), at work here? I think there's an exchange in a play somewhere or other (Gilbert and Sullivan comes to mind, but that's not it) where this dilemma comes up, and a character deftly turns the matter aside by winding up with something like, 'Why, what a singular quandary,' and that's that.

Peace and quiet

This and this, among other things, are why it's been so quiet around here lately. There were several other thought-provoking articles that had been tilting me toward the notion of giving up more computer time, but I can't remember where I stumbled across them and won't bother to look them up right now. If you're reading this, then you probably already know all about wasting time on frivolous computer chatter. =) I haven't made any resolves and I'm not officially closing up shop, although I suspect that this is the way the blog ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

Moving on

Yesterday's post was hard to write for a very long time, because it was difficult to strike the right balance between solemnity and cheerfulness. Write too darkly and it sounds hopeless, and might even seem like fishing for sympathy; write too optimistically and it sounds superficial. So I waited until the right opportunity came to craft the perfect post, and it never happened. At last I decided to just write it out, so I could get back to posting already.

My mind imposes random statues of limitations on reasonableness, as it were, of response, and when I am in danger of running them out, my thought process tends to paralyse. So I put off writing thank-you notes until I can do it justice, and the longer I wait, the more spectacular the card has to be to make up for its tardiness. In the same way, the longer I let this blog lapse, the more impressive I feel that the eventual posts have to be, or else I shall just have to stop blogging altogether. But I don't want to do that, as how else can I dispense cute baby pictures and Focht family clevernesses to the adoring masses?

Yes, we've been going through a lot of late. But life moves on. Baby pictures to follow.

Sunlight and shadows

The lack of posting recently hasn't been due to the hectic schedule that comes with a newborn (as babies go, this one is the easiest yet), but due more to heavy-heartedness and lack of motivation to spout cheery little updates. In the midst of our rejoicing over the arrival of Katy came the news that Michael's boss had died in a car crash, leaving behind a wife and child. This was devastating on a personal front, of course, as I couldn't help identifying with his widow and thinking how easily any of our lives could be changed in a heartbeat. Also it's been pretty hard on Michael and his whole team at work, who were very close to Sean and had been really inspired and motivated by his leadership. He had only been there a few months, but had already been promoted from the director of IT to the Executive level and had revolutionised the work environment.

The wake and the memorial service were incredibly challenging and yet very inspiring. One close friend of Sean's referred to the 'tragic car crash,' and added that he refused to call it an accident, since all our days are ordained by God and that somehow, though we don't see why, God planned for this to happen. It's easy to agree with this on an intellectual level, but still hard to accept in real life. Sean had only been a Christian for eight years, but accomplished so much for God in that short time. One thing I was very impressed with during the testimonial time was how very intentional he was in every aspect of life. I tend to drift, and I felt very convicted that I should be pursuing excellence in my relationships.

We are moving through the grief process and getting to that point where we acknowledge that it's okay to laugh again. Michael is still picking up the pieces at work. There's a lot to mull over, but I'm definitely left with a sobering reminder of the fragility of our lives. And impressed with a renewed gratitude that, so far, God has spared us from any heavy burdens.