I finished Living Prayer and started Dancing on the Head of a Pen earlier this week. I didn't know Robert Benson could get any better.
Today I read (and underlined and starred) these lines:
"It's just like bull riding," said the rodeo champion Ty Murray about the art he was trying to master. "You're never quite ready. It just becomes your turn."
Eleven years ago today, I became a mom for the very first time.
I wasn't ready then, but it became my turn.
I am not ready to have an eleven-year old, or four kids in general. I am not ready to write a blog post most of the time. I am not ready to examine my life early in the morning or at midday, and especially not at nighttime. I am not ready to get up early and exercise and begin my kitchen work for the day. I am not ready to go shopping or do homeschool. I am not ready to stare at the blank page and figure out how to begin again.
But my turn comes around, and here we are.
In her book Operating Instructions, Anne Lamott tells it another way:
But just like when my brothers and I were trying to take care of our dad, it turns out that you've already gone ahead and done it before you realize you couldn't possibly do it, not in a million years.
We don't have a million years. We don't even have a million days. Even if we live to be 90, that's only 1/3 of a million days that we get to take a turn on this earth.
Today was my turn to become a mom of an eleven-year old and to celebrate the goodness of Bauer's life. Today was also my turn to read more Robert Benson and to think about what it takes to be a writer. I changed a few diapers in there and made some lists and bought some groceries and hung out with a friend. I sat in the sunshine and said some prayers.
What are you waiting your turn for? What is the art you're trying to master? What letter should you write this weekend? What person should you celebrate? What rest do you need? What book will you read? What life will you lead?
Please don't be so distracted and busy each day that you miss your turn. Ready or not, here it comes.