Glennon Melton in Don’t Carpe Diem talks about two different type of time, chronos and karios. We’re all familiar with chronos. It is what keeps us on schedule. Wake up at 6AM, out of the shower by 6:30, drop off the first kid by 7 AM. It defines how long we’re at work (9 to 5) or at school. It helps us to calculate anything that’s paid by the hour: babysitter, house cleaner.
Sometimes it moves painfully slow for us parents, as Glennon eloquently described. When I stayed at home with Peanut and D was coming home after 7:30 PM every night, the last two hours of the night crawled slower than a slug.
Once past the the difficult toddler state, the time moves awfully fast. Soso could have stayed 5 for 2 to 3 years and I wouldn’t have complained. Five was such a fun age.
Kairos, defined by Wikipedia, is qualitative time, a time when something special happens. Like when I realize the house it too quiet and I run around looking for Peanut and I see her quietly looking through a book. Or when we were at the pool this summer and Soso dived head first into the water, without an ounce of fear. Or when I go downstairs in the morning and D’s busy making pancakes for the girls and the girls are patiently waiting and they all look so happy.
I didn’t know there was a word to describe these moments when my heart feels a pang and deep satisfaction all at the same time. Kairos.
Today started out as one of those painfully slow days. Peanut was crying, screaming, whining as soon as she woke up. 9 AM, house bound with snow, I thought there’s no way I’m going to survive today without a mommy meltdown.
Then, D suggested we go for a walk with the girls on the sled.
Peanut, hilariously passed out. Kairos. Soso, protectively holding Peanut so she doesn’t fall off. Kairos. D and I exchanging a look of shared amusement. Kairos.