In true Accidents of Time style, this week I was listening to a podcast interview with author Jen Pollock Michel whilst making a birthday cake for our youngest (I’ll be finding evidence of the icing sugar and cocoa powder sandstorm that swept the countertops for weeks).
Something Jen said had me brushing the flour off my hands, hitting pause and scrubbing back to write down her words on the spot.
To back up, Jen writes the Substack
, but I first discovered her writing via Charity Singleton-Craig at (shout-out to writers recommending other great reads! Charity's, a digest of wonder, is one of my favourites).Discussing her new book, In Good Time: 8 Habits for Reimagining Productivity, Resisting Hurry, and Practicing Peace , on The Habit podcast, Jen mentioned moving from Canada to the USA to look after her mother, who was later diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
Then she gave a perfect example of how the most ordinary, perhaps un-“seen” ways we spend our time can be, truly, sacred.
“Yesterday, I took my mother to get her hair cut. There’s nothing impressive about that, it’s just a caretaking activity that I’m taking up because I believe that God calls me to the work of love.”
Love takes time.”
—Jen Pollock Michel
As Jen observes, time truly well spent isn’t always about the measurable and visible.
Similarly, I’ve had at least two conversations with dear friends recently who have confessed to feeling behind, or less than, somehow, because of currently caring (wonderfully) for loved ones who truly need them.
It’s hard for them, in the midst of it, to see what holy work they are doing.
In his book, The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything, James Martin suggests:
But holiness resides not only in canonized saints like Ignatius but also in the holy ones who walk among us—that includes the holy father who takes care of his young children, the holy daughter who attends to her aging parents, and the holy mother who works hard for her family.
—James Martin, S.J.
Back to the birthday preparations earlier this week. What more accomplished celebration planners and bakers zip through without stress (or sugar-based sandstorm), I do not.
When things take (so muuuuch) longer, I have to stop myself from falling into the trap of feeling frustrated with myself (and taking it out on those in the floury vicinity).
Jen Pollock Michel’s words come to mind: love takes time.
But I never regret the time it takes, each year, to slide the wonkily-frosted, three-tier Hummingbird Bakery Mississippi mud pie cake onto the glass stand, only to watch it do its Tower of Pisa-lean within minutes.
It also explains why a quick, check-in phone call to my dad that goes on for much longer and ends with us both laughing and not wanting to hang up fills me up in a way that I can’t put words to.
I know I won’t always get to do it—even though I kid myself I will.
So, this one’s for those of us who need the reminder: in any time spent loving, we have nothing to lose.
And, maybe, the most precious time of all to gain.
I’m deeply moved and grateful for the responses to the last newsletter, on Finding our way home.
Your stories, shared in the comments and in email replies— extraordinary, beautiful, touching, sacred— suggest, surely, that St Augustine’s advice to “pay special attention to those who, by the accidents of time, or place, or circumstances, are brought into closer connection with you” can absolutely apply in spaces like this.
That the connections we make can be healing, and holy.
Among your stories were those about revisiting childhood homes—in one instance, even being invited inside—or the house of a beloved grandparent (something I’ll come back to, in a future AoT).
The significance of the smallest details was a common theme.
As Fiona wrote, in the comments:
Whilst sorting my Dad's clothes, it was the pack of half eaten Extra Strong mints we found in his best blazer. He always used to crunch in the church and pass them around during the service! … It was as though they were there waiting for him once more.
I’m thinking of ways we might be able to include and share your stories here as part of AoT, going forward.
Just thank you.
Sending love as we head into the weekend (and leftovers of cake!),
Beautiful. That Martin quote. Wow! Needed that 🤍
This post resonates so strongly Jenni. I’m a great devotee of St Thérèse of Lisieux and her belief that the most mundane tasks can be elevated to a prayer when they’re offered up to God. When doing something- anything - for loved ones it’s an act of kindness. But doing things that aren’t particularly pleasant (anyone caring for poorly people knows what I mean) is transformed when we offered it up as a prayer of love. It brings dignity and the gentle touch of love to every action. I love your posts. Lee them coming! X