They’re pretty much everywhere. If they aren’t scribbled quickly between lines on a page, they’re scribbled quickly in my head or in the form of mail littering my dining room table or wooden play food put away all wrong in the play kitchen.
Hello, Kelly. Don’t forget about me. Add me to your list.
The tone of a new text message or that mocks me in the form of a loud vibration that is full of sound when my need to tune out leads me to turn off the sound. The kind reminder to do laundry in the form of someone yelling about not having a clean towel for the pool. The alarm clocks for lunch time that sound remarkably like 4 children’s voices in unison saying, “I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry.”
I feel like I can become enslaved to a to-do list, a list made up in part with living beings that I named myself.
Please tell me I’m not the only one.
There’s a list on my frig. The words are made up of faded red color ink though I think they started as black. It isn’t special paper and has often lost its prominent place to a Star Wars drawing, field trip permission slip, library story time schedule. But, when those things get shuffled as they always do, this list always stayed.
It reads:
Make the gospel apparent.
Guide.
Warn.
Cheer.
My alarm clocks are all asleep now. And, it’s fairly quite aside from the cries of our air conditioner window unit fighting a losing battle. And, I’m saying right here on this space to whoever is out there, there’s my to-do list.
Tomorrow, beds won’t make themselves and there won’t be any magical lego magnet corraling those babies off my basement floor. But, this mama? I’m going to make the gospel apparent. I’m going to guide, warn, and cheer. And, while I’m at it, I may feed a few hungry mouths and answer a few of my emails in the process. We’ll see.
