flexible.
Brimming with Interruptions
In the kitchen last Friday evening I prepped pizza for dinner. While chopping and grating I ask Google to play this song from my teen years. It seemed fitting even if I wasn’t planning to “live it up” that Friday night.
My reverie of music and cooking interrupted by a phone call.
Immediately I get in the car to pick up my daughter. No easy feat given a bridge closure, roadwork, and rush hour traffic. Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t sure of her exact location. But there she is beaming brightly in pink, standing in a grassy field at the edge of the road. Can this truly be a metro bus stop?
Back home I slide the pizzas into the oven and pour a glass of wine.
Before I finish my second slice another phone call interrupts.
Immediately I get back in the car. Picking up my son from work he holds a brown paper towel around a sliced finger. On the drive to the ER, the paper dampens and turns red. I count 37 people in the waiting room. Eventually, his finger is glued shut.
This is life.
Messy. Unexpected. Inconvenient.
Brimming with interruptions.
You’d think I’d have learned to be more flexible by now. Laugh at the odds of two emergencies in one night. And be grateful that both kids were fine.
I’m still learning.
Being flexible doesn’t come naturally to me. I like things planned out. A schedule. No surprises.
Lifelong lessons in flexibility seem to be the story of my life though. Hitting me over the head. A constant companion.
Have you been there?
Wedged between flexible and inflexible? Unable to cross the threshold? Hands open then closed?
I would guess most of us have experienced this at some point.
Now listen, there are times we do need to ward off interruptions. Concentration cannot happen with a barrage of intrusions. Deadlines loom. Work needs to get done.
I get that.
I’m talking about the interruptions of life. The inevitable messiness of living in relationships. The necessity to cultivate flexibility within our own agenda.
Knowing this and living it out are two different things.
Becoming flexible requires effort. Rigidness splintering into strands. Expectations thinning. Layers of adaptability forming.
Eventually, flexibility emerges. Albeit disheveled. Imperfect. And unsteady.
Accepting interruptions pushes us to take advantage of the moments that dangle in between. Hold time loosely. Make space for broken pieces.
As I reflect on these thoughts I glance out the window. The sunset glows between the gap in the trees. Arms of sunlight stretch. Beautiful. Vibrant. Captivating.
My own interruption.
Leaning forward I embrace the fullness of life.
Even the parts brimming with interruptions.
That’s the kind of “livin’ it up” I’d like to do every day.
Not just on a Friday night.
“The great thing, if you can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions in your own life. The truth is that what you call interruptions are precisely your real life. The life God is sending you day by day.”