Tuesday, March 26, 2024

Making Time

TaniaRose via Pixabay

 I am an ambivert. I present as an extrovert, so people are often surprised that I carry even a trace of introversion.

I was kind of surprised myself but, if I ever doubted it, the pandemic made it abundantly clear. Be en with shutdowns in the rear-view mirror, my inner introvert still wins the “go out or stay in?” debate nearly every time. Combine that with the part of me that loves learning and throws herself wholeheartedly into (probably) too many things, and it’s easy for me to live in a cocoon.

In a homily at the beginning of Lent, one of our priests encouraged us to pray for guidance on what we’d do in observance of the season. Give something up? Add something in? What would be a choice that meant something beyond the avoidance of empty calories or bad habits?

Still undecided about my own path, I took his advice. And the answer presented itself quite quickly.

Make time.

During these weeks leading up to Easter, “make time” has become both my call to action and my mantra. “Make time” is my call to act on invitations that my happily cocooning self might otherwise turn down. It’s a phrase I can use to counter the insistent and insidious belief that if I slow down (or, heaven forbid, stop moving forward) that not only will it not all get done, but it will all come crashing down.

“Make time” is not a penance, but rather a reminder that valuable relationships require me to be “all in” when I say I will be, and that perhaps I need to say that more often.

“Make time” is not, however, license to ignore my own needs, or zoom from the introverted side of my personality to the extroverted side and put down roots, living there and only there. I need to make time for myself, too – for the introvert inside of me that sometimes needs peace and quiet and sweatpants and cocooning.

“Make time” has been a wonderful addition to my weeks, as I balance out both sides of myself, emerging from my cocoon to re-discover that there’s a beautiful world outside that not only balances the one I’ve guarded so carefully, but enriches it as well. And, as it often the case, it’s begun a habit so meaningful that I have every intention of continuing it long past Easter.

Thanks, Fr. Sahd.

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