What of the Children?

I'm going to be a bit vulnerable here. I can't tell you the amount of times I've felt guilty for sitting at the computer and writing. My children, it seemed, knew the back of my head better than they knew my face.

Project after project demanded my time. For you see, years ago I was the Stake Cultural Arts Director. This meant that my days overflowed with time spent writing productions for stake and regional settings.

Don't get me wrong. It was flattering to see my imaginings on stage, playing before hundreds of audience members. In fact, it was more than exciting to see one of my productions in regional committee discussions to become the "Hill Cumorah pageant-of-the-south."

But when your church calling demands so much time...what of the children? What of my children?

This question, "What of the children?", has haunted me at times. For nothing can compare with the quiet moments of looking into the exquisite eyes of my daughter. Her eyes speak of eternity to me, if I look in them long enough.

Nothing can compare with hearing my youngest son's peals of laughter when we get into a tickle fest. His chuckles move me like nothing else can.

Nothing compares with the deep discussions my eldest son and I are wont to engage in. His insights inspire me and aid me on my darkest days.

Thus years later, I've changed my pace. It's been a hard thing to do -- for in truth, I love nothing better than sitting at the computer creating stories and events, articles and book chapters. Those activities, along with my music compositions, have been rewarding.

But -- in truth -- nothing can compare with irreplaceable moments with my children. Therefore, I determined I would shift my priorities. Surely the Lord could help me work more efficiently and complete my projects more swiftly.

As a result, I soon learned the potency of delegation. I also witnessed that reducing perfectionism speeded completion. "Over-the-top" efforts were not required -- not when my children were present and deserved my love (which they seem to spell "a-t-t-e-n-t-i-o-n").

In truth, I may not have three books a year to show for my writing efforts, but at least my children are much more familiar with "Mommy's face!"