While I Was “Busy”

by GettingFreedom on September 13, 2012

September is a really hard month for me.  Well, August too.

Nine years ago, last weekend actually, I fondly remember celebrating our oldest son’s 3rd birthday at a lodge and cabin owned by my husband’s employer.  We reserved it for that weekend so we could celebrate with our entire family {both sides}.

One of my favorite scrapbook pages–and the last photo taken of my dad.


We enjoyed cake and ice cream, had tons of food, way too many presents {as usually is the case}, and lots of laughter and good times.

That weekend will forever be etched into my mind.

It was the last time I saw my dad alive.

September 12th haunts me, as does September 13th.

While we lived in another town–we were still very much attached to our hometown.  I missed my friends, and would frequently drive back home to see them. Nine years ago, on September 12th I made the 2 hour journey back to my hometown to hang out with an old friend.

We hung out, drove by the old grafitti bridge where we once spray painted our names and posed in front of it for pictures.  And we reminisced of the old days.  At this point I vividly remember thinking I should drive my parents’ house just to say hello.  After all we were only about 10 minutes away at this point.

But I didn’t.  I was too busy.

I could see them next weekend when we got together for a BBQ my dad was planning for the family {including his brothers and sisters from out of state}.

I drove home later that night still thinking that I really probably should have dropped in.  But justified my actions to myself and continued on.

Six hours later the sound of my home phone ringing jolted me out of bed.  Not wanting to be interrupted from my sleep I let my answering machine get it.

I was busy sleeping.

The voice on the answering machine alerted me that there was something wrong.  “Pick up the phone PJ this is [your parents’ neighbor]. Call me back, there’s been a problem.”

Five minutes later, I was standing outside our kitchen door and immediately fell to my knees.  Screaming and crying like I never had in my life.

At 56 my father was found unresponsive in his bed.  He was perfectly fine the night before, and had even spoken to every single one of his siblings in preparation for this BBQ {that never came to be}.

I never said Goodbye.  I was too busy.

Today I am fully reminded that I may not have tomorrow.  The stress of this day {and every other one before and after it} is minimal in comparison to the big scope of life.

These children, who often frustrate me, need me.  Not just a little bit–but all of me.

My Creator deserves all of me.  And yet, I often only give Him part of me–because I’m busy.

My husband, who works hard so I can stay at home and give my all to my children, should get all of me.  Not be pushed off because I’m busy.

My friends, many of who are dealing with their own set of bad times, need a friend who is willing to listen, lend a hand, and be there.  Not be absent because she’s constantly too busy.

Are we really “busy”–or are we busy-because-it’s-convenient, busy-because-it-sounds-cool?

My prayer for the last few months has been that I would be fruitful and not busy.  Everything I do, I want it to be intentional and not for the sake of busyness. 

And today, I’m reminded of that.

While I was busy, the world lost one of the greatest men I ever knew.

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