If I were working at a regular job with regular hours, perhaps the hours
of my work (and, therefore, those of the rest of my life) would fade
into the background--just a steady factor in the daily experience of
life. But I am not, so they don't. Each week, sometimes each day, is a
new negotiation about time. Where will I be when, and consequently,
where will anyone in my family need to be? Will there need to be daytime
sleeping, or special arrangements made? Will I be available for
discussions, or unable to talk until the time when everyone else is
asleep? Things may work out just fine, but how do we get from "how the
heck?" to "just fine?"
And so, as I make my way through work and life, I can't help but "count
the hours." It's not about watching a clock or filling out a time sheet.
Rather, it is about conserving energy when I see there is a late shift
ahead. It's not about wanting to redistribute my hours. Rather, it's
about making sure I make the most of them, whatever and wherever they
are.
The hours are flying by. Are you counting them, or making them count?
No comments:
Post a Comment