The Sacred Time-Out

I stood on my tip-toes as tall as I could. My arms reached high into the air curving over the top of my younger brother. Holding the basketball in both hands he kept one foot firmly in place, pivoting to get a clear angle for a shot at the hoop. He had gone straight to his favorite place on the court to shoot but this time I beat him to the spot. When he realized it he had already stopped his dribble and was stuck.  I would either block his shot or it would be so far off the mark that I would be in the best position for a rebound.

“Time-out,” he said making a “T” with both hands, holding the ball against his chest with his forearms.

I deflated and took a step back. A time-out meant he could go to the top of the imaginary half-circle in the driveway and begin his turn on offense all over. I could complain about how unfair it was (and sometimes did) but I had used the same tactic myself. In the world of one-on-one, driveway basketball there was no limit on time-outs. You could call one whenever you needed it; the slightest injury, an off-balance shot that left you reeling and unable to get set on defense, a bee buzzing around the driveway, or just to gain a slight advantage.

When I was a child time-outs were sacred. I’m not talking about the pseudo-punishment of being banned to a room, to a special “time-out” chair, or to the corner of the room. I’m talking about the competitive world of brotherhood. Time-outs would stop anything from a board game to an all-out brawl. Any continuation of action after a time-out was contemptible. You could argue the validity or fairness of calling a time-out but it could not be ignored. A time-out brought a halt to whatever was happening.

I hate to think that I squandered my lifetime allotment of time-outs as a child playing driveway basketball or wrestling with my brothers but I seem to have lost the ability to call a time-out when I find myself at a disadvantage. Maybe it’s because the stakes are so much higher now. With house payments, insurance costs, utility bills and retirement savings on the line, calling a time-out doesn’t seem wise. I have to keep on working. With 50+ hours of work each week, household chores, volunteer obligations and more, calling a time out doesn’t seem possible.  Mostly, though, I am afraid that if I call a time-out other people won’t respect it or that it will be viewed as a sign of weakness.

The beginning of the Fall season has become one of the busiest times of the year for me. Getting the school-year programming off to a good start at church and dealing with all the administrative paperwork is added to my regular work load. This is also the time of year when I volunteer with the high school marching band (which is a joy, but a very time consuming joy.) So it was with mixed emotions that I called a time-out in my writing. I felt that I needed to give up something to make the fall more manageable. I would have preferred to give up the administrative tasks required for my job but at this point I find it prudent to remain employed.

Respecting the sacredness of this time-out has been a blessing to me. Not only did I have more time to get other tasks accomplished, I also avoided the guilt that normally accompanies my inability to get it all done. Interestingly, the time away from my writing has felt sacred and blessed. The urgency to accomplish something with my writing is gone and I return to it now with a deeper sense of purpose.

I wish the world would respect the sacredness of the “time-out” so that we could all take that necessary break when we are feeling the most disadvantaged and then begin again when we are good and ready. If that’s going to happen it will need to begin with me respecting my own need to call, “Time-out,” and not put it off until later. It continues as I respect the time-outs called by members of my family, my neighbors and my congregation even when it feels unfair. It matures as I find that personal and communal rhythm of work and rest that isn’t dictated by a clock or a schedule but is discerned in every season and every moment of life.

When was the last time you were blessed by calling a time-out?