Every Minute Matters
Recently, I had a thoughtful conversation with a colleague who was checking in with me. After a little over a month into my life as a new parent, they were eager to know how things were going. They shared some of their own experiences with the transition into parenthood at home, as well as their transition at work. One of the significant shifts they described experiencing was an increased sense of compartmentalization, or rather, prioritization of how they used their time.
Pre-kid, they would voluntarily take on more tasks that caused them to stay at work longer. They would also find that on their way out, they would check in with other colleagues, get lost in conversation, and end up staying 45 minutes to an hour later than they had planned to leave. Post-kid, they described experiencing a shift in priorities after realizing just how much, and how little time there is in a day, which made it necessary to prioritize family in different ways. As I think of their story, it’s important to note that those things weren’t negative experiences. It wasn’t a matter of deciding that those things weren’t important at all, as much as it was a matter of deciding what was most important at that moment. They opened up about more than what I will share here, but they ended by sharing an important statement:
“Every Minute Matters”
I’m feeling a certain shift too, and feel called to more thoughtfully examine how I am spending my time personally, as well as revisiting my vocation, stamina, and overall capacity when it comes to social justice work.
Notes from an Aspiring Humanitarian: Year 7 Complete
That’s seven years, and eight hundred twenty-three notes at the time of this entry.
A glance through the archives reveals that I’ve started to adopt a theme each year like emancipation, getting out of our own way, and fear from last year’s address, among others. This year I’m hoping to focus more intentionally on every minute.
For the past six years, I’ve kept the same appointment on April 1st. Although the exact time may have differed, every year I was able to find some time that day to write out a reflection that acknowledged the anniversary of Notes from an Aspiring Humanitarian. I’d often wondered how long I could keep it up, and this year I missed it. I’m okay with that though. I spent the time I would have used to writing, reading my child their first book instead.
Every minute matters.
From Aspiring Humanitarian, Relando Thompkins-Jones