Thinking.

It's dangerous when I do that, I know.

I was rushing around to get to work this morning, rushing through the traffic and the maze of cars, irate at traffic lights and stop signs alike, as well as slow drivers. (In Memphis, a "slow driver" is anyone who actually goes less than 5 miles over the speed limit at any given time.)

It's only now, at my desk, that I wonder what all that rushing really got me? I'll leave at the same time today as I would if I'd gotten here a full 15 minutes later. And I think of the things I could have done with those 15 minutes.

My daily Bible reading has been at night for a while and it's a shame. I'm just not as attuned at night. I'm ready for bed -- tired of rushing around all day, I suspect.

In the summers, I work at a Christian youth camp in the middle of nowhere, Arkansas. I love it. And for a week, despite the dogged-tiredness that comes from being physically active daily (an athlete I'm not), I somehow find the time at 5:00 a.m. to hike to the bluff and spend 20 or 30 minutes reading and praying.

Of course, I think that's because the kids don't go to sleep till just before then, so a half hour alone is hard to snag any earlier.

But it keeps me focused and for that week, I feel less dead, less overwhelmed and less hurried than otherwise. And somehow less tired.

So. Do I really need to rush here a full fifteen minutes early? No. Will I change anything? I guess that's what I'm about to find out.