We had a long day yesterday. Or, rather a long evening. In hindsight, I guess I could pinpoint some buildup, but something switched at dinner and our pleasant family time unravelled to wild imaginative games which made bedtime a time of struggle rather than rest.
It’s those moments of parenting which seem so, so long and which seem to zap my energy faster than what I’d imagine running a marathon would be like. (I’m no runner, but I’ve watched people cross the finish line. I think I wear their expression every night around 5:00…)
In A Circle of Quiet, Madeleine L’Engle reminds me of the two words for time in Greek: chronos: measurable, linear, clock-driven time and kairos: immeasurable time that encompasses life – time at the dinner table, in prayer, with babies.
I sit in the rocking chair with a baby in my arms, and I am in both kairos and chronos. In chronos I may be nothing more than some cybernetic salad on the bottom left-hand corner of a check; or my social-security number; or my passport number. In kairos I am known by name: Madeleine.
The baby doesn’t know about chronos yet. (p 245)
I am up early this morning after this rough night. I just nursed Elle back to sleep and, rather than trying for one more hour of my own, I come downstairs, sit across from Frank and find time for something that makes me happy, for something that reminds me of my name.
How do you live in the balance between chronos and kairos?
Linked with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday, a time to write without editing. Today’s prompt is time.