From North Carolina pastor John Pavlovitz:
I was really busy last night.
As usual, I’d piled far too much on my plate and found myself at the end of another day; hovering over a screen and keyboard, feverishly typing, furrowing my brow—and feeling annoyed at the seemingly insurmountable, important things still unfinished.
My 8-year old came bounding into the room (which in itself felt like an interruption at first). I answered her succession of rapid fire questions abruptly without looking up—hoping she’d get the hint that I was preoccupied and stop asking.
She didn’t.
Then she said that she’d set up a light show in her room and asked if I’d have a dance party with her.
For a split second I considered declining and excusing myself; telling her how much work I had to do and how tired I was, and promising her we could do it another time.
Then it occurred to me that she didn’t want to dance another time. She wanted to dance with me now.
I realized that there are a finite number of times I’ll get such an invitation—and I’d never again get this one.