The older I get, the more I find the necessity of margins in my life. If I go, go, go every night of the week, I am exhausted and have little joy to celebrate. I call the nights I take off to catch up the margins. You might call them breathing room. You might call them mini-Sabbaths.
The end of the school year, the end of my working life, the preparations for Mom's 96th birthday, the packing to move to the new house, the financial entanglements, and so on, all take their toll on my time and energy. They steal time from creativity or rest. And I try to hang in there with keeping social events because I find I get rather sad and lonely when I stay home all the time to catch up.
So, Thursday this past week was my margin. I had a lot going on and Thursday was the day to take a walk, finish a little sewing project, rest. Then I picked up the mail and discovered that something I had already taken care of and double checked, as well, was in chaos. I had to locate papers and phone numbers and plan the phone calls I would make to fix the situation. There goes the margin. I did none of the fun things I had planned.
Friday when I made my first phone call, the person assured me that the chaos letter was a mistake and that she would fix it. And all my paperwork and phone calls and preparations to wade in to do battle were unnecessary. Fixed. I don't have time for margin tonight. Maybe I can squeeze some rest into tomorrow. All I know is, the older I get, the more I need margins in my life.