Sometimes, it really does. Last Monday was one of those hectic days. I completely overlooked that my son Jake had hockey practice scheduled, even on a holiday, which forced me to reschedule my mom’s planned dinner visit to the late afternoon. We were running behind for hockey, and I found myself feeling irritable and stressed. By the time I got Jake into the car, hockey gear mostly on, and headed through the light snow to pick up his teammate for practice, I was on the brink of tears.
It can change so quickly, can’t it? Just the previous evening, we celebrated Jake’s birthday with a fantastic dinner at his favorite restaurant, a homemade triple chocolate cake that required a trip to three different stores for ingredients, and a pile of presents. I remember sitting at the dining room table, surrounded by the warm glow of candlelight, feeling calm and grateful. My little boy was turning eight.
But now, I found myself at the hockey rink, fighting back tears in the freezing cold, having forgotten my hat and gloves. I shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets and leaned my forehead against the cold plexiglass separating me from the rink. Watching Jake skate, my breath quickened, and a tightness gripped my chest: I’m trying to juggle so much at once, and as a result, I feel like I’m failing at everything. I’m simply exhausted.
As I took a ragged breath, I battled the rising tide of sorrow within me. Suddenly, Billy Joel’s lyrics popped into my head: “This is the time to remember, ‘cause it will not last forever…” I shook my head, feeling a mix of annoyance and self-reflection. I was reminded of my deep desire to be present in these moments while simultaneously grappling with the pressure I put on myself to be engaged all the time. Is my constant worry about not being fully present hindering my ability to actually enjoy the moment?
I’m not sure. I suspect it doesn’t because I know I was far less engaged before I started contemplating this. However, it certainly makes me acutely aware of the many ways I fall short in my quest for meaningful engagement in my life.
I looked at Jake, his figure blurred by my tears. I long to fully embrace these years, to pay close attention and not miss anything. Yet, too often, I let my fatigue or frustration overshadow the beauty of our ordinary, imperfect lives. The thought of everything I might have already missed makes me weep. I don’t even want to blink for fear of losing another precious moment.
Throughout the rest of the evening, all I could hear was:
“This is the time to remember / Cause it will not last forever. / These are the days to hold onto / Cause we won’t although we’ll want to / This is the time, but time is going to change.”
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In summary, while the fear of missing out may sometimes cloud my ability to enjoy the present, it’s essential to recognize that this awareness can also inspire greater mindfulness. Embracing the chaos and imperfections of life can ultimately lead to richer experiences.