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I asked my husband what I should write about this week.
"Make hay while the sun shines,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I responded. “
You know,” he answered, “even if you don’t want to do something, if you have a good opportunity, you should still do it, because, later on, you might not be able to do it.”
His comment about hay making couldn’t help but remind me of our family’s observance of Memorial Day during my childhood. I’m pretty sure that my mother visited the cemetery sometime over that weekend to decorate the graves of loved ones, but most of the Memorial Day holiday of my youth was spent putting up hay as the first cutting of the year was generally ready around that time. Our cows and horses depended on it. My father had an extra day off of work, so if the sun was shining at all – we were all engaged in activities related to hay making. Other families were picnicking and swimming, but we were working. The way my parents figured it, we were lucky to be able to have the work to do and the opportunity to do it. It wasn’t a burden to them, but rather a freedom to enjoy.
Growing up on a farm, there were many times when I was less than enthusiastic about the work to be done. I preferred reading a book, playing with my brother and sister or going swimming. My parents, however, had other thoughts. Good weather for swimming also meant good weather for making hay, painting fences or weeding the garden. These things had to be done, like it or not, while the sun was shining and the skies were fair. Our pleas to put off work in favor of pleasure generally went unheeded. There was plenty of time to play after the chores were done . . . and some tasks could only be done with a shining sun above.
My husband understands the relationship of weather to work, but I don’t think he was talking about farming when he told me to write about “making hay while the sun shines.” Rather, I think he was saying that there are times in life when it’s not attractive or exciting to think about “making hay,” but it’s often necessary. It’s important to seize an opportunity to get something done, even if other things might appear more attractive.
“How might this apply to daily life?” I asked him. “Give me an example.”
“Okay,” he said, “let’s take my desk. I have trouble getting that cleared off. Papers pile up. Things get lost. I feel overwhelmed. I decided I needed to do something to get started on the mess, even if I only have a short time.”
“So what are you doing?” (I’ve seen his desk and I know he needs help.)
“I set a timer for 10 minutes and I focus my energies on just that task for that time. If someone walks in, they hear the timer ticking and they know I’m preoccupied. I know I’ll get back with them when the ticking stops. Even those few extra minutes make a difference in helping me seize the opportunity to get something done while I have a chance.”
I’ve got to admit that I was impressed. It made me wonder if the same principle could be applied to relationships. What if we set a timer for ten minutes and took just that time to send a note or email to someone we love? What if we took the time to tell our son or daughter how proud we are of them or to notice something they’ve accomplished? What if we devoted only 10 minutes a day to planning a fun date for our mate, ordering tickets for a family activity or sending flowers to someone we care about? I’m wondering what could be accomplished if we set a timer and focused all our attention for just that amount of time on someone we love.
What a great experiment that would be! I’d love to see others take up the challenge and let me know how it turns out.