Sometimes you just have to go after the gumballs.

Last week when I was visiting my sister and her family in Tucson, we went to my favorite gelato place for desert (after going to my favorite pizza place for lunch). My nephew chose bubble gum gelato, and the kind lady behind the counter gave him an extra supply of gumballs in a little paper cup. As we sat outside eating in the lovely Tucson sun, a gust of wind picked up the paper cup, the gumballs, and a bunch of napkins and sent them flying across the sidewalk. My nephew jumped out of his chair and hurled himself onto the sidewalk after the gumballs. He quickly scooped them all up before they rolled too far and then returned to his chair. Meanwhile, my sister chased after the napkins and paper cup.

When my sister got back to the table, she chastised my nephew for only going after the gumballs and not helping collect the other things that had blown away. He kind of shrugged a bit sheepishly, and I laughed and said to him, "Sometimes you just have to go after the gumballs, right?" He quite agreed.

Just that morning I had been thinking about how I hadn't been able to fulfill my blog-a-day goal. Instead of feeling bad about it, though, I was okay with it because it wasn't due to me being lazy or blowing it off; I simply had other things to do, like spending time with my in laws, hanging out in the youth center at church, going to a play with my good friend, taking a trip to see my sister. I liked this feeling of freedom without guilt.

I recently heard a news story about how multitasking is a myth. After testing a variety of individuals who claimed to be excellent multitaskers, a research study revealed that these people who were supposedly multitasking actually did quite poorly on all the tasks they were trying to accomplish at once. If they had just focused on one task at a time, they would have done much better. In our pushing the vacuum cleaner while texting while paying the bills while walking the dog society, the idea of slowing down and deliberately choosing how we spend our time often gets swept under the rug.

Of course, I'm a fine one to talk. There have been times--more often than not, I'm afraid--when I've almost hyperventilated thinking about all the things I have to do. Actually, I should say all the things I think I have to do. I remember several years ago paying a visit to some friends of mine who have four kids, full-time jobs, and a ton of commitments. When I came into their kitchen shortly after dinnertime, the whole family was getting up from a homemade meal, and right then and there it hit me: They deliberately made the choice to spend time together as a family. They chose how to spend their time, and I think they chose wisely.

I've tried to model the attitude of my friends. The dishes in the sink, the unsorted mail on the counter, the unfed cat--all these things can wait. Time spent chatting around the dinner table or visiting with friends or serving at church or scouring the Scriptures is worth way more to me than a spotless house, a menu plan, a half an hour of exercise, what have you. Some days I can fit it all in, and some days I can't. On those days that just don't seem to have enough hours, I'm learning to chase after the gumballs and let go of the rest. And boy does it feel great!