On principle, I approach our days in a gentle and slow manner. I like breakfasts that sizzle and dinners that simmer.  I love enjoying these meals with time enough to honour them.  I love our weekday rhythm and watching Coco explore her world with little hustle and bustle.  We pace ourselves and enjoy ourselves.  We slow down, we connect.  We watch the days getting longer as the crispness in the air fades away.  It is all so very lovely.

And then, the weekend hits. Oh my.  So much to pack in- a big grocery shop, work for me (in September I returned on Saturdays to my former job as an ecological interpreter and educator), soccer, appointments, errands, catching up on laundry, visiting with friends (this part we love)  and various other runnings around.  So much happens over two short days that lately I’ve found myself positively dreading the weekend.  It always seems to be a fine balance and, lately, I’ve caught myself quietly reassuring myself- when we move to our island, things will slow down.  When soccer finishes we will have more time.  Things wouldn’t seem so busy if we lived in the country.  If we just bricked over the backyard, we wouldn’t have to struggle with getting the grass to grow. Oh dear.

This past week, I’ve had a couple of not so subtle reminders to change what needs to be changed and that waiting until the external aspects of life are different is not the best answer.  And so, over a chicken and black bean enchilada pie the other night, Sean and I made plans to change our weekends, including me letting go of my job position.  Saturdays are to be ours, and ours only.  Sunday will have moments of busyness, but Saturdays will belong just to us.  No schedules conflicting, no appointments, no chores that require driving.  Just us.

Sometimes the momentum of life misguides us. We get on a roll and we become used to it, no matter how the hectic days make us feel, and we often don’t have time, or remember, to stop and re-evaluate things.  We keep going and soldier on until one day you realize that family time and connectedness is suffering.  And this, we decided, just can’t be.

So on this past weekend, we got a glimpse of our family day.  No errands, just enjoying each other.  A trip to the seaside, a walk in the sun, an afternoon in the garden.  At the end of the day we all had sand in our shoes, dirt under our fingernails, and a lovely and peace-full still in our hearts.

Yes, nothing is worth more than this.

Gwen Elliott is inspired by family feasts, celebrations and rituals, and the magic of everyday, simple living.  She lives in North Vancouver with her husband, daughter and faithful black dog, Scout.  Her inspiration to build family foundations and traditions is chronicled on her blog, barn raising.