Years ago in college, I watched an object lesson unfold in Relief Society. The teacher called a volunteer to the front of the room and proceeded to hand her book after book while she (the teacher) continued the lesson. As the volunteer’s stack grew more precarious, I wondered why she didn’t say, “Just a minute,” and then restack the books in a way that would allow her to continue adding to the pile instead of clutching books in each hand while cradling a jumbled mass in her arms and saying, “I can’t take anymore.”
The teacher went on to explain that this illustrated the need for balance in our lives and how we shouldn’t accept more than we can handle. I didn’t listen to a thing she said after that. I wanted to jump up and demonstrate how the volunteer girl could have accepted more if only she’d been willing to take a moment and reorder the books in her arms. It’s how I’ve always lived my life: shuffling my responsibilities and activities around until things run smoothly.
I shared this experience with my sister-in-law Hayley a few years ago. When my husband was called as bishop when our fifth child was four-weeks-old, Hayley told Nate, “Tell Katrina it’s time to restack the books.” And I did. And life continued.
However, these last seven and a half months I’ve felt like an iPod stuck on shuffle . The magic reordering remains illusive. Seventeen years later, I finally understand the object lesson. I had to put a few books down last night. Relief? Yes. Sadness? Yes. Peace? Yes.
And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order.
VERY good. I tend to be a re-stacker, too. Lately, though, the books set down haven’t been missed all that much, and kids are actually learning to balance a few of their own. I love the above scripture. Great post, Kate!
I would have run out of that Relief Society room WITH the books, grabbing a few extras on my way, yelling, “Bye, they’re mine now.”
@Jack–Thanks I needed that.
@Krista–This is why I must meet you in person someday!
@Karen–Thanks, you make me laugh!
how extremely coincidental, that we should blog about the same things! is it the pregnancy? Would we be able to handle things if we weren’t pregnant?
Okay, so yes, you can reorganize, but you can never have back the quiet moments, the contemplative time, the moments of stillness and quiet, the moments when nothing else beckons to you and you can enjoy a light hearted moment with your kids. Never. Unless you put down LOTS OF BOOKS. I specialize in doing less and less and less. Its an art form. I still DO TONS of things, but I do them quickly, I get them out of the way and I clear the plate and keep it as clear as possible. So that there are lots of quiet moments. That’s when you can find out from heaven exactly what it is you should be doing. Get rid of your own plates, and let heaven serve you on its china and crystal…
You wrote:
“the quiet moments, the contemplative time, the moments of stillness and quiet, the moments when nothing else beckons to you and you can enjoy a light hearted moment with your kids … That’s when you can find out from heaven exactly what it is you should be doing.”
These are the moments I’ve been missing.
@Tamara–Yes the pregnancy contributes, but I think it’s more of a preparation. Babies require a lot of time. Time I’m happy to give, I just have to cut way back in other areas.
Well then. Problem solved. Put down some books. And hurry up and slow down. And don’t let all the dead time, the open schedule, the white blank spots on your calendar, the obsolencense of your calendar, your day planner, your palm pilot, your google scheduler, and your reminder minder booklet freak you out. That’s the way its supposed to be. Open. Blank. Free. That’s when all the inspiration can creep back into your life. That’s when the sponteniety can return. That’s when you can be free. Freedom at any cost is worth it. Isn’t that why Satan was cast out of heaven in the first place? He wanted to deny freedom to the rest of us. So go on. Get busy finding some freedom. Not from responsibility, just from all those time constraining scheduled items. Drop some books.
Sad, Kate, but good for you. I have been impressed with all you do. Multi-taskers are so impressive. But it IS nice, from a selfish standpoint when one has to drop a few things, cuz then the rest of us feel like you’re not actually super human. 🙂
You’re not multi-tasking any less. And you’re not less super human than before. You’re putting down one genre of books in order to make room for those quiet, spontaneous, family-oriented, spiritually renewing books. They’re the ones with the invisible covers and pages, the ones no one else but you can see. They’re veiled, much like the viel across heaven. You see, if we could really see through the window of heaven, all the rewards and the life that await us should we be faithful, then life would no longer be a choice, we would be compelled to do right because we can exchange our rightness (and our righetousness) for something spectacular. But, alas, all the rewards are veiled, hidden, and we are left with choices. That’s why faith is a choice. The gospel is carefully balanced with as many voices telling us that prophets and revelation and charity and commandments and covenants are a grand fairy tale, and an equal amount of spiritual nugding, revelation and the fruits of the gospel to give us hope that all of this is true and beautiful. And so we are left with a choice. So put down those books you can see and pick up some of those books that no one else but you can see. Its a choice. But once you make that choice, you’ll see that all those veiled books are rich with the things of the spirit. You’re not super human. You’re eternal!
I’m slow to comment here … probably because I’ve been juggling too much myself. I really like how you expressed this, Katrina, and the dialogue that followed.
When Kyle was about 6 I was so sad that we couldn’t put him in all the sports teams and other classes that seemed to be de rigeur in our neighborhood. One, it was a financial hardship and two, we didn’t have a second vehicle to help me get him to and fro.
But I still felt like I wasn’t providing enough opportunities for my children. One spring day I was especially upset, mulling these thoughts as I gardened and my children played near me on our lawn. I heard a strange buzzing sound. It was a bee frantically trying to get out of a tulip, its pollen-laden legs making it too hard to fly past the stamen. I summoned Kyle over and together we tipped over the tulip to rescue that bee. He still remembers it, eight years later.
And you know? Just now in summoning this memory to share with you I realized something I’d never discovered before. The pollen the bee was gathering was a good thing. Trying to carry too much at once? Not good.
Hmm. Maybe I’ll write a post about this. When the laundry is done …
ha!
@Jenni, You always add depth to a discussion. I’m so glad you chimed in. Neighborhood/community peer pressure is just as real now as it was in high school. No wonder it’s so important to gain a testimony of the gospel and know who we truly are at an early age. I’d love to read your honey bee post–you’re quite insightful.