Time is worth more than money

Spending time with a child is a lasting gift

I’m sure mine was a familiar scene: I sat in the doctor’s office waiting and waiting and waiting. In the meantime, I had to fill out the new patient paperwork, which made me agree to pay $50 for any missed appointment or for neglecting to cancel an appointment 24 hours in advance. The irony is hard to miss. Apparently, the doctor’s time is worth much more than mine. If I had known I was going to have to wait an hour and 15 minutes before being seen, I would have added my own little clause to that document: I will agree to pay you according to your terms if you will agree to pay me for my time waiting more than 15 minutes for you.

He’s a really nice guy, this doctor, but business is business, and for him time is money. Has he ever wondered what time is for the rest of us? Time is one of the few things we each have, but it’s both limited and uncertain. In other words, at least in this life, we’re all going to run out of time sooner or later, and for some “sooner” comes unexpectedly.

Just yesterday, for example, a friend told me of a 42-year-old father of five who recently found out he has Huntington’s disease. He and his family are downsizing and making other adjustments so he can spend more time with his children (ages 3-14) before dementia sets in. He wants to use his remaining time to build relationships, create memories, and spend each day really loving those close to him.

The best baby gift I ever received was a Reader’s Digest article from a friend who had six children. The piece entitled, “My Mother’s Gift,” helped remind me to cherish each day with my children. In it, author Suzanne Chazin describes a conversation she had with her mother, now a retired career woman:

“Mom, you must have been terribly bored staying at home when I was a child,” I said.
“Bored? Housework is boring. But you were never boring.”
I didn’t believe her, so I pressed. “Surely children are not as stimulating as a career.”
“A career is stimulating,” she said. “I’m glad I had one. But a career is like an open balloon. It remains inflated only as long you keep pumping. A child is a seed. You water it. You care for it the best you can. And then it grows all by itself into a beautiful flower.”

As Chazin looks back on the time her mother spent with her, she realizes that “Life is not savored in premeasured increments, but in the sum of daily rituals and small pleasures we casually share with loved ones.” She continues, “Over peanut-butter sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies, I learned that love, first and foremost, means being there for the little things.” Being there for the little and the big things shows children love, but just being there is also a gift. In fact, choosing to spend time with a child is a gift to both the child and parent, one that can last in both their memories. 

During the years Ken and I were in the throes of raising a younger family, giving children “quality time” was all the rage among the so-called parenting experts. In my opinion, that philosophy is a bunch of bunk. Mostly, it just gives parents an excuse for not hanging in there during the tough times, the sick times, the stressful times, the messy times, the chaotic times, and, yes, even the boring times.

Most people live a long time nowadays, and, as my wise sister-in-law pointed out to me years ago, women will likely have many seasons. Somehow, though, when you’re in the thick of it, the parenting season can seem never-ending. (Many well-meaning grandmothers used to say to me, “Just enjoy your little ones while you can,” and sometimes I'd want to scream, “I’m trying to!”) However, in hindsight, time does pass quickly. 

Now, as our children have grown and begun to leave home, at times I feel pangs, occasionally yearning to gather my chicks back in the nest again. But at least I don’t look back, regretting that I gave the bulk of my time to other causes when my children were all with me. Sure, I could have been a better mother, but I chose to be a stay-at-home mom so I could give motherhood my best shot. No amount of money could ever make up for the moments I might have missed.