At the time, I had two small daughters. My husband and I were directors of a campus ministry and our schedules were so busy that we often high-fived each other as we swapped duties both at home and on campus. My daughters were born 19 months apart, so between October 2005 to sometime in the spring of 2007, I was carrying a baby in my womb, breastfeeding a baby, or carrying one or both on my hips. My heart and arms were full and life never stopped moving. I was tired but I loved it.  I was relentless with my schedule. My girls and I had our days super planned so that we had an idea of how things might go, but be willing to shift plans when something else came up. I also knew that if I got behind in my day, I would have to scurry to catch up, so I rarely let time slip. It was impossible to be still.  The schedule kept my attention. The schedule was intentional.  The schedule was necessary.  Soon after my younger daughter was big enough to be left with a relative for