Get Your Hands Off My Plate!

Sure don't miss that!
A friend is leaving this morning to go see her grandson and I hadn't gotten his gift to her yet. So I drove it up there earlier this morning. It was prime school traffic time and raining. So I got to see lots of headlights, taillights, and school buses.
I do remember taking note of my last year to need to drive a kid to or from school or activities. That sitting in parking lots and dropoff/pickup lines. The waiting for a phone call when practice is over. Or the times when a kid troops back in the door when they should be at school saying, "I missed the bus."
And then the youngest was 16 and no longer in need of rides.
Out and about this morning made me appreciative that I didn't start this blogging thing until the kid phase of life was over. When I hear of authors (like Danielle Steel or Madeline L'engle) who wrote in the wee hours because their children would be asleep, or read the laments on twitter of authors working around snow days and carpooling; I appreciate I came to writing late. I'm not sure I'm the type that would have done well with all that on my plate at once.
Sometimes I wonder if we don't try to put too much on our plates these days. I watch friends struggle with all the items on their plates, but the thought never - never - arises to take something off. Give up a position, a duty, a pleasure? Nope, the thought is never even entertained.
What if I offered my plate to God and asked him to make some corrections? What would God do with my schedule? I can hear it now, "Sure, I'll give God my life, but my schedule? Now that would just be him meddlin' in stuff he don't understand."
Sure don't want God to go to meddlin'. You never know what all he'd mess up.