what we fail to notice

I was born into a family of doers. Never is it as evident as when we have an event. Today was a perfect example: when my sisters-in-law and I threw a bridal shower for my sister Liz. Thirty minutes before the shower was to start, the food still needed to be assembled and everyone - including my cousin who was hosting, another cousin who arrived early, and an aunt who had traveled from far away to be a guest - stepped up to quickly and efficiently get the fruit skewered and the cucumber sandwiches made. No one wondered how to help or stood to the side to chit chat. With grace and ease, we got it done, on time. I love that about my family.

Yet, as I have observed and experienced, being a doer can come with a price. We can get so caught up in our doing that we can miss the seeing. I have been to functions where wives stand in the kitchen and give their husbands one directive after another, never even uttering a please or a thank you. I have been to gatherings where the doers work their fingers to the bone, all the while flustered and irritated. I have rarely seen a doer carry on a conversation without one eye scanning for a spill to clean up or bolting mid-sentence to pull a roast from the oven. I have done all of these things myself.

I have also seen the other side. After college I spent a month in Kenya and what I remember most about that trip is how I never met a doer. I think I can unequivocally say that every African I met was far more concerned with a person than a task. As a result, not much got done in the city I visited, and nothing ever happened on time, but people knew they would be genuinely listened to whenever they were together. Because in most families in Africa, nothing comes before relationship. Especially not the dishes.

However, thinking about being three hours late for an appointment or letting my home go to pot because my time was all tied up in visiting makes me crazy. I can't even stand to lay in bed more than a minute after I awaken. There are millions of things to do. But I'm sure there's a middle ground and I'm working to find it.

Here's why: After the shower, my immediate family and the groom and his mother and sister stayed at my cousin's to have pizza together. My cousin's husband had been gone with his son all afternoon while we women did our thing. When he returned, we were in the thick of transition - from bridal shower to "impromptu" dinner party. The kitchen was hectic and my cousin was beginning to show some weariness. I watched her husband quickly assess the situation and, rather than join the other guys standing nearby nursing their beers, he went straight to my cousin, put his hand on her back and tenderly said, "What can I do to help?"

From what I observed it was a moment of true kindness, a loving and generous act. This husband is also a doer, so it could be chalked up to that. And, based on my cousin's reaction, which was to simply direct him to something that needed to be done, she probably took it that way, too. But from my vantage point, it was a glimpse of what we fail to notice when we live at breakneck speed and struggle to get it all done. It was a small gesture but a huge gift, and the recipient breezed right by. It made me sad because I know I do it, too. All the time. Because who has time to open the presents? There are mouths to feed and tables to clear and people to make happy.

So, to my little sister about to wed and all the doers who are too heavy burdened to pause, I beg you, please don't miss the moment. Because the person you love (especially the person you are married to) is made most happy simply by being acknowledged and appreciated and adored. Not with things we bake or make or work all day to provide, but with a smile and a hug and a few uninterrupted moments when we are really and truly not thinking about the next thing we have to do. Look up, exhale, soak it in. And, by all means, don't let a pile of dirty dishes obscure your view. As important as they seem at the time, they absolutely are not worth it.