the morning shift.

Early morning finds me perched on the end of the couch, a cup of Starbucks Verona on the end table, laptop in it's place and Zoe in hers. 'Hers', for the moment, is this little ovoid sleeping platform / bouncy thing that, when the switch is activated, jiggles like an eternal 2.5 level earthquake. Babies find this comforting, although I find it interesting that there is no adult equivelant.

We got up at 4am, which I know sounds like death to some, but was just fine with me. She is back asleep now and I'm just enjoying the quiet.

I've been thinking a lot about life in the last few days. Adding one to the family probably lends itself to a little introspection anyway, but I think this thought progression has been God-prompted rather than circumstantial. Being responsible for six people now makes me think a little more about intentionality and efficency. I am reevaluating a lot of things and asking is that the best way?

Some of the things I'm considering are purely temporal...like what happens when we all decide to go somewhere together. As it is, we can all fit in the S.S. Family Truckster, providing we don't do something crazy like try to bring the stroller. Or a backpack. Or a grilled cheese sandwhich. There is technically seating for seven, but two of the seven would need to have their legs removed to ride in the rearmost seat for very long.

Not everything in my head relates to simple logistics though. I'm thinking a lot about my own life. About impact. About what the wisest course of action would be, and how to train myself to identify that course straightaway, rather than taking a long time to land on it.

At 39 years old, it's very easy to fall into the trap of ambition under the guise of a desire to make a difference. It's wholly possible to gallantly ride off to slay dragons while secretly trying to make a name for ones self.

This morning, here in the dark with the hum of the baby bouncer melding in with the classical music on my iPod, I'm realizing that I could bolt off toward the horizon on foot and do pretty well, or I could take the time to hone the arrows in my quiver and have four times the impact in twenty years. If I can find the humility to prefer my children over myself, within two decades (earlier, really) I would see dividends that would far surpass anything I might accomplish in my own strength.

Here in the dark, I am acutely aware that I am stewarding potential. I am coaching greatness, whether or not I know much of it first hand. I feel a heart connect to the idea of tempering my life, controling my schedule and trimming my own ambitions so that one day, my legacy would be waging war on four fronts rather than one. To me, this feels like wisdom.

Go ahead, Don Quixotes, go chasing your windmills. I intend to concentrate on the arrows in my quiver. Wisdom will reveal herself soon enough.