The Power of a Moment

This song by Chris Rice has been going through my head for a few days now:

What am I gonna be when I grow up?
How am I gonna make my mark in history?
And what are they gonna write about me when I’m gone?
These are the questions that shape the way I think about what matters
But I have no guarantee of my next heartbeat
And my world’s too big to make a name for myself
And what if no one wants to read about me when I’m gone?
Seems to me that right now’s the only moment that matters

You know the number of my days
So come paint Your pictures on the canvas in my head
And come write Your wisdom on my heart
And teach me the power of a moment
The power of a moment, the power of a moment

In Your kingdom where the least is greatest
The weak are given strength and fools confound the wise
And forever brushes up against a moment’s time
Leaving impressions and drawing me into what really matters

You know the number of my days
So come paint Your pictures on the canvas in my head
And come write Your wisdom on my heart
And teach me the power of a moment
The power of a moment, the power of a moment

I get so distracted by my bigger schemes
Show me the importance of the simple things
Like a word, a seed, a thorn, a nail
And a cup of cold water

You know the number of my days
So come paint Your pictures on the canvas in my head
And come write Your wisdom on my heart
And teach me the power of a moment
The power of a moment, the power of, the power of, the power of a moment.

I feel that in this new chapter, where I have so little time, I'm finding the power of the little moments God gives me. I no longer have long uninterrupted (or minimally interrupted) blocks of time where I can spend time with God, unwind, take a nap, or otherwise find refreshment. What I have found is that God has given me little moments all along.

At school, where I have minimal plan time, I find that in the 3 minutes between classes I can shoot off a quick email before I forget something. Or I can outline a lesson plan so that all I have to do is type it up later. Or I can whip up a quick visual to print later.

In the car, I have a few minutes where I can call and catch up with friends or family. I no longer have Dayna in the car with me, so my conversations can once more be private.

At home, I may not have a free hour to just play with Dayna, but I might have 10 minutes to crawl into our "covered wagon" and read another chapter to her.

My life is no longer filled with free time, but He has given me moments in my day to find restoration. I know that 30 years from now, this time of stress will be a vague memory to Dayna, but she will always remember our covered wagon!