Running off the rails.

Jen at Conversion Diary spent a week in retreat at a monastery.  (Check out the photos at this post -- wah, I want to have lattes on retreat too!)  Here she posts "6 things I learned from living on a monastery prayer schedule."  In part

4. It makes you surrender your life to God at the micro level

I always try to better surrender my life to God, but I often think of it at the macro level alone: e.g. I'll work on trusting him with what I'll be doing 10 years from now, my children's vocations, my writing projects, etc. But living according to a rule of prayer involves even deeper surrender. There have been quite a few times since I've been here that I was really into whatever I was doing, and the last thing I wanted to do was set it aside and go back to the church to pray. To let go of my activities requires an act of trust: trust that God will give me the grace to pick up where I left off if whatever I was doing was important in his eyes, that this "interruption" won't irreparably derail whatever I was doing, etc. I find myself taking these little leaps of trust at almost every prayer time, whereas back at home I simply push back my prayer or meal times to accommodate whatever it was I was doing -- no trust necessary.

This was something I needed to read.

I am not, really, a time-waster (most days).  I don't, for example, think that I spend "too much time on the Internet."  I enjoy blogging and reading blogs and other interesting things, and I spend some time on it most days, and I don't think the total time is  excessive.  It's perfectly ordinary to have a hobby, and to use leisure time to do something that's fun (or to multi-task, as I am doing now as I blog on my netbook while nursing a baby to sleep in a quiet bedroom).

But I don't always like the focus I have on it.  It's hard for me to tear myself away quickly to attend to my children or to begin some task I ought to do.   And it's a distraction.

It's a self-indulgence.

I keep hinting about wanting to use what I've learned to defeat gluttony, to combat my next most besetting vice, which is letting this leisure-time activity of mine (and it's really not just internet use -- reading in general is part of it too) consume my attention.  It's possible that part of the problem is overconsumption, devoting too much time to it, and I guess I haven't exhausted the possibilities of self-limitation of total hours.  But honestly, I don't think it is "total time" that is the trouble.  It's the totality with which I get absorbed, even in taking a very short break to check e-mail or to dash off a quick blog post.  It's the reluctance to be interrupted.  I think Jen may have put her finger on it a bit in her post. 

Part of my vocation as mother demands that I make myself available to be interrupted when my children need something from me.  I am terrible at this.  Yes, I also need to train my children not to interrupt me for trivial matters, but you know, I want to be a mom who says "Sure, I'll read you a story" or "Yes, I'll help you settle that argument" or "Okay, I'll feed you breakfast."  I don't want the first thing I say to my kids in the morning to be "Aaaargh!  What are you doing up already?  It's not even seven o'clock yet!"  Even if I'm not done with my blog post.

I am struggling with how to put the pieces together for a strategy to change myself.  If I can do what I've already done, what can't I do?  But I still am not sure how to go about it.  I feel like I need a plan.

Comments

[Kate]

I'm not sure that this is something that takes a plan (though if you haven't read Holly Pierlot's 'a Mother's Rule of Life' yet you ought to, just for the bit where she talks about how our children's needs are our monastery bell that must be answered. The book didn't do much for me because it was about plans and structure and I suck at those things). I think it is just a matter of practice, making a series of small choices.

I'm trying to teach my 5 year old to think about the hierarchy of goods this way - that it is not bad to want a toy, but bad to want it *more* than he wants to be loving to his brother, that it is not bad to enjoy his computer time, but bad to choose it over serving his family, that people are always more important that things or occupations.

Which is slowly making me more mindful, that my 2 year old is more important than my blog reading. That taking the time to find an answer to my 5 year old's question about cicadas has to rank over finishing that online argument.

I guess if you wanted to make yourself some rules you could write out and clarify your own personal heirarchy - when two demands or occupations come into conflict, where do they each rank? Which one takes priority?

[bearing]

I have read Holly Pierlot's book, some years ago, and I did get a lot out of it. Perhaps I should crack it open again.

I like your idea of the hierarchy of goods (or priorities) and will think about it some, I think.

[Jessica Snell]

Thank you for this. Learning to be willing to be interrupted is something I have worked on, am working on, and, I'm sure, will continue to work on for a good, long while.