On Juggling

I always admired jugglers. As a kid, I would see them on the rare occasion my farming family was in the city. More recently, I see them on TV, or at our town's summer festival. The current circumstance fades away as I watch. It doesn't matter if a moment before I was hot and thirsty, or if the kids are pulling me toward the snowcone booth. Nor does it matter if I am in my living room with stacks of housework calling my name. When I see a juggler I am mesmerized - watching as one ball arches gracefully between his hands. I blink, and seemingly out of nowhere comes a second ball, then a third, a fourth, fifth and sixth, all moving up and down and over each other in such perfect sync they appear to be moved by magic. I want to see one ball complete its circuit, but I blink again - and miss it. I shake my head and decide they are moved by magic. The magic is in the hand of the juggler, given to him because of hours and hours of practice and unwavering concentration. At the end of the show, I applaud loudly then walk away, knowing I will always be a spectator. I will - in all probability - never participate in it. I will always only be a fan of the act.

The other day I looked at my schedule and wondered how the list of small things that needed to be done had gotten so long and complicated. One small thing piled on top of another, and I realized I needed to manage things just right to make everything work the way it needed to.
Our truck was in the garage - leaving Marlin without wheels. After breakfast and morning routine, he needed dropped off at work and the kids to two different schools. I had agreed to trade babysitting with a friend, since we both had places we needed to be without preschoolers.
After school delivery and a few quick jobs completed at home, I watched her kids until she came back. Then I watched the clock and chatted my allotted few moments, kissed Chloe goodbye and headed off to school to watch Allison's volleyball game. I made it just in time - her team was heading onto the court. After the game, I picked up Chloe, picked up groceries, picked up kids from high school, and made it home with minutes to spare before my elementary scholars walked in the door. Next was helping with homework and music practice, making dinner, and picking up Marlin and Sherri at work.

Later that night, with a hot cup of coffee in hand and a very chaotic but quiet house, I was contemplating the crazy turn my day had taken. I left out an internal exhale, happy I was able to keep my commitments without dropping the ball. It was then the word "juggling" came to my mind. "Hmm," I thought with a tinge of sarcasm, "maybe I've been wrong all along. Maybe my fascination with a juggling act is not because I wish I could do it, but because I do it all the time!" I realized when I stopped to think about it, that I have a great deal of empathy for the amount of concentration and energy it takes to keep a whole lot of balls in the air at one time.

The balls I juggle are colorful - kid's schedules, school activities, housework, office and business activities, time with friends and family, time for my own soul growth and stimulation.

But I've got a real advantage a professional juggler does not have. Many days I do lose rhythm, momentum, energy or concentration. Just when I begin to feel the panic of losing a ball, someone else steps in and expertly catches it.

Marlin gives me a kiss and says, "I've got that one covered, Babe." The kids pick up an extra job or two. A friend may stop by, call, or email at just the right time, and with the motivation of that interaction, I resume my rhythm.

God didn't create me to be super woman and juggle life alone. He created me to be interdependant: to allow others into my act, and at times to step into someone else's.

And then there are those days when Marlin steps into my act, looks at the balls I am juggling, points at one and advises, "Drop that ball, Les. It isn't worth the energy it takes for you to juggle that one. Let it go." With his perspective I realize that my act would be more beautiful and graceful without it. And so - I do. I let it drop without regret.

The next time I watch a juggler I will respond like always. I will admire him, and ignore the world for a few moments while his balls swirl magically around him. And the next time I will also identify with him in many ways. Like him, I use energy and concentration to keep things flowing in our family. And at least some of the time, I hope the flow is smooth, graceful and beautiful. Though I will never wow crowds with my talent, I will not feel so different from him. I think I know a bit how he feels. Sort of. One thing he does that I do not do is stand there alone.