Making Time

The car's wind shield is a water wall. If only it were as soothing as the water wall we saw in a furniture store last Sunday.

The roof pings with  crunchy sounds, fat drops like bugs or leaf crackle. Rain storms the lacrosse field, but the boys play on.

It would have been easy for the coach to call off practice before the rain started. He could have pointed to weather forecasts or the crawling grey cumulus that darkened over the interstate. It would have been easy to use the rain as an excuse to just skip practice, to bail on the forty-minute drive to the field, to forgo the ninety-minute practice, to bypass rush hour for the forty-five minute drive home. But my son loves it. Because he values it, I know it is important. Its important for me to be there for him, to drive him, to make time for it our week.

We make time for what (or whom) we value.  We all have twenty-four hours in our day. How we choose to use our time says a lot about what we value.

One lightning clap and the coach called practice early. Getting home was quite an adventure. Collin put a towel on his lap in the back seat and started his algebra homework. Between problems and picture taking we joked. We crossed the ocean at Ivanhoe.

The wagon throws quite a wake. We made up small craft advisories for the Mini Coopers on the road and marveled at gutter rip tides. The rain delay on the roads gave us time to laugh together: definitely a blessing disguised as inconvenience. Glad I made time for it today.

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