Hours

Nine days left.
That’s only just over 200 hours.
Let’s say I sleep for 60 of those, and have around 40 hours of work…
I’m left with 100 hours before I fly out, give or take a few.
That’s not very long to pack up my caravan, get Betty serviced and sold (cross your fingers for me!), finish a few projects and farewell gifts, squeeze in some catch ups and goodbyes and eat in between.

I’m dancing the tightrope of carefree, at peace, excitement for what’s ahead and knowing things will all work out fine and F R E A K I N G O U T that those hours are flying by faster than I’ve felt before, overwhelmed with my list of to-do’s.

Even just taking a few moments to post this nags at me – shouldn’t I be vacuum-sealing my clothes, or wrapping mugs and picture frames with newspaper, or calling that friend that I haven’t talked to in too long?

Last year, I went through a season of intentionally choosing joy over my circumstance.

Right now, I have to intentionally choose peace.

I’m going to be fine! I just have to remind myself that.

I’ll chip away bit by bit, write what I can when I can, work as many hours as is wise, make sure I laugh throughout it all, and trust that these next 100 waking hours are spent with people I love.

When I was a kid, hours didn’t matter. Actually even just a few weeks ago, hours didn’t matter!And Lord knows, soon enough hours will feel like eternity as my world slows down to walking pace out in the wilderness on my own.

I think I have to remember to hold onto moments instead of minutes, and be sure the carefree spirit child within me is the Naomi who shines out.

A Thought of Your Own?

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