Rachel Macy Stafford is a New York Times bestselling author and a certified special education teacher with a Master’s Degree in education. A few years ago, this life-long writer felt compelled to share her journey to let go of distraction and grasp what really matters by creating what became the tremendously popular blog “Hands Free Mama.” Using her skills as a writer, teacher, and encourager, Rachel provides readers with simple, non-intimidating, and motivating methods to let go of distraction and connect with their loves ones. Rachel lives in South with her husband and two children who inspire her daily. www.handsfreemama.com

Hands Free Mama

a guide to putting down the phone, burning the to-do list, and letting go of perfection to grasp what really matters!

ZONDERVAN

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGE THE COSTOF YOUR DISTRACTION

Awareness

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature isthat all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of somemagical rose garden over the horizon—instead of enjoying theroses that are blooming outside our windows today.

Dale Carnegie

Maybe it was the recurring disappointment in my children'sfaces when I told them I didn't have time. Maybe it was the superficialhellos and hasty goodbyes offered to my spouse. Maybe itwas the persistent feeling of unease—like I was missing somethingimportant. Maybe it was a combination of all these troubling factorsthat finally made me ask, Is this really how I want to live?

The first and most critical step in this journey is gaining awareness.I had to acknowledge all the precious moments I was missingand would continue to miss as a result of my distracted ways.Taking this difficult look inward was a prerequisite to beginningmy transformation. If I hadn't first made an assessment ofthe irreparable damage caused by my tech-obsessed, multitaskingways, even my most sincere efforts to let go of distraction wouldhave never happened (or lasted).

The pages that follow include three stories from my journey,which I hope will enable you to gain valuable awareness aboutthe cost of your distraction. Then a "Hands Free Weekly Intention"offers a list of practical ways to help you curb your distractedtendencies and initiate meaningful interactions with the peopleyou love. These intentions correspond with the letting-go actionillustrated in the story. The intentions in this first chapter encourageyou to take an honest look inward to assess the cost of yourdistractions.

Despite the pain you may experience while reading this chapter,do not let it discourage you. On this journey to grasp whatreally matters, discomfort often comes before growth; hurt beforehealing; regret before promise. By going to the darkest places inour soul, we find light. This first and most difficult step in thejourney offers the chance of a new beginning—a chance to graspthe moments that matter from this day forward.

WHAT I WOULD HAVE MISSED

I still have the envelope. It's nestled among my most valuabledocuments, along with my marriage license, passport, social securitycard, and birth certificate—documents that prove I exist. It'snot the content of the oversized envelope, stamped with the logoof our local zoo, that's worth saving—it's the message scribbledon the outside.

The words were written on the very day I vowed to stopmissing the precious moments that make life worth living. Likerushing water from a swollen stream, the words filled my mindwith such force that I was unable to hold them back. I scrambledthrough a kitchen drawer, looking for something to write on—asif my life depended on documenting these words.

At first glance, the uneven trail of words looks like a grocerylist jotted while driving—imagine one hand holding the steeringwheel while the other scribbles eggs, milk, and broccoli. There's nocapitalization. The t's aren't crossed. The sentences have no punctuation.But all that only reveals my haste. I was certain I mustremember every single word of this epiphany, which changed thecourse of my life. Here is a polished version of what I wrote:

What if you missed hearing the best part of your child's daybecause you were on the phone?

What if you missed a chance to inhale the sweet scent ofyour energetic child because you insisted on folding that basketof laundry before bedtime?

What if you missed a chance to console your worried spousebecause of your mile-long to-do list?

What if you missed hearing an unknown childhood memoryfrom your aging parent because you were too busy to call?

What if you missed a divine cloud formation in the skybecause you were racing to the bank, the post office, and thedry cleaner before you had to pick up the kids?

What if one day you realized that all the opportunities youmissed couldn't be retrieved?

But it was already too late.

What if one day you realized the best moments in life comein the mundane, everyday moments? But you were only fullypresent on special occasions.

What if, instead of rushing through the minutiae of yourdaily life, you occasionally paused and offered your presence?

What if you turned away from the distractions that monopolizeyour time and attention and grasped the sacred momentspassing you by?

Turn off the music in the car.

Sit next to your child as she plays.

Lie in bed with her after you say good night.

Hug her and don't let go right away.

Tell her something you have been meaning to say.

Bend down and look her in the eye when she talks to you.

Do these things and see what might unfold. And once themoment is over, reflect back on that moment and realize thispainful truth: If I had not paused, that precious moment is whatI would have missed.

After covering the front and back of the envelope with mythoughts, I stared at it. Although not sure what I was supposedto do with what I'd written, I simply could not put the envelopeback in the drawer. This once-ordinary envelope now exudedsignificance, so I set it on the counter with a sense of expectation—as if waiting for it to come to life.

I didn't have to wait long. Less than an hour later, the purposeof what I'd written became clear.

As I was making lunch as usual for my younger daughter,Avery, my laptop was open on the kitchen counter and my phonewas an arm's length away. The devices battled for my attentionwith their respective dings and beeps. I answered their demandingsummons with instant obedience.

Between incoming texts and email messages, I hurriedlyapplied peanut butter to a slice of bread. The sooner I could makemy child's lunch, the sooner I could address a few pressing matterson my to-do list. My mind was preoccupied with an upcomingbaby shower I was hosting, the low air pressure on the front righttire, and making copies of a community-picnic flier.

For some reason, I looked up. I knew my child was there, butthis time I noticed her, really noticed her. My precious curly-haireddaughter sat on the sofa sucking her thumb while gentlyrubbing her nose. Suddenly, I felt like I couldn't breathe. For thefirst time, I felt a new kind of urgency—an unsettling, uncomfortable,downright painful kind of urgency. Time was running out.

Then I did something atypical of my productive nature, somethingforeign to my type-A why-do-it-later-when-you-can-do-it-nowmentality. Without even joining the two pieces of sandwichbread, I balanced the gooey knife on the open jar. Without closingthe open bag of bread, without giving thought to the time,without contemplating the next item on the agenda, I went to mychild. I felt God's presence encouraging me to let the other stuffgo; nothing was more important than being with my daughter.

I sat down next to her and placed my arm around her smallshoulders. She looked into my eyes, her whole face brightening.Her wide eyes instantly transformed into joyful slices of happiness.Quickly filling the space between my body and hers, she scootedover and melted into me.

What happened next was something no one had ever done to me.

She brought my hand to her pink lips and ever so gently kissedmy palm.

As my eyes filled with tears, I knew this was it. My confirmation.My divine sign. In one simple, beautiful gesture, my daughtercemented my newfound pursuit to live Hands Free. I realizedwith clarity that this—this pausing when the whole world keepson going—is living.

I wanted more tender moments like this. But first I had toadmit that they wouldn't be so rare if I would simply stop for amoment. The truth is: No matter how much she wants to, needs to, orwould love to, my child cannot kiss a moving target.

Living distracted had cost me countless precious moments,but thank goodness I didn't miss this one—because it changedeverything.

My moving-target days had officially come to an end.

CATCHING RAINBOWS

My daughters and I had just left the house for swim practice. Wewere less than five minutes from home when we noticed unusuallydark clouds forming in the direction of the pool. As we discussedwhether we should turn back, we heard the unmistakable sound ofthunder.

Delighted by their unexpected day off from practice, the girlsbegan to celebrate the impending rain with fits of laughter. As Iturned the car around, my older daughter, Natalie, interruptedthe impromptu party long enough to ask whether a celebrationwas truly in order.

"Do we have to do anything when we get home?" she cautiouslyasked the drill sergeant behind the steering wheel, who was knownfor having every spare moment accounted for and planned out.

The answer "Nope, not a thing" evoked cheers.

But when the garage door lifted, the open agenda I had justpromised quickly filled. Somehow in our hasty comings andgoings, I had failed to notice the disturbing state of our garage.The floor was littered with pool toys, winter gear, holiday decorations,and empty soda cans. It was a seasonal dumping ground.As I grabbed the industrial-size broom, I felt pleased to have thisunexpected opportunity to get the garage back in order.

Donned in Hawaiian leis and ski masks, the girls began pickingup random items so I could sweep the floor. As I glanced upto assess our trash-bag supply, a hushed, steady rain began to creepover our house. Despite the gentle precipitation, the sun was stillshining in all its glory—a highly unusual weather phenomenon.I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should mention it to thegirls, who were being oddly productive. Not long ago, I wouldhave kept quiet to avoid disturbing their efficiency.

But things were different now.

My Hands Free inner voice gently reminded me that I hadnever danced in the rain with my daughters.

I abruptly tossed the broom to the floor and ran to wherethe girls were crushing empty soda cans with enthusiasm. In avoice so urgent it actually startled them, I hollered, "Let's go seeif there's a rainbow!" I darted out to our driveway, which wasalready dotted with tiny raindrops.

The girls quickly followed with delighted yet reserved smiles.Natalie looked like she was waiting for me to spoil the fun byadding, "But only for a minute. We don't want to get our clotheswet; plus we have lots of work to do!"

But when I extended my arms and began swirling in circles,my daughter relaxed and did the same with a look of pure joy onher face. For several moments, my children and I just stood theresavoring the soft, slow rain as it tickled our bare arms.

Without warning, the silence of our enchanted moment wasbroken by urgent young voices from off in the distance. "Rainbow!Rainbow!" shouted two neighbor boys as they pointedexcitedly to the west.

In our rain-induced reverie, my children and I had forgottenour initial intention. When we turned to look, our eyes filledwith the most glorious sight. Not one, but two full-f ledged rainbows!Miraculously, we could see their arches from end to end.

My daughters looked at me and then at each other with themost amazed expressions. "Thank you! Thank you!" I cried outwith joy. The boys across the street probably thought I was thankingthem, but my gratitude for that glorious moment was meantfor God alone.

My children instinctively stretched their hands toward the sky.At first, I thought they wanted to feel the rain once more, knowingit soon would be gone. Then it appeared as if they were tryingto grasp those colorful silk ribbons suspended in the vibrant sky.Finally, I decided it really didn't matter what the children weredoing or why. For in that magical moment, we caught a doublerainbow. And it would be ours forever.

SUNSET MOMENTS

Shortly after my husband and I were married, we relocated from Indianato Florida. The first year in our new surroundings was challenging.I was extremely homesick for my family and friends back home.

One evening I was driving home from work a little later thanusual. I was heading west, and the horizon was in full view. I canstill remember the comforting familiarity of John Mellencamp'sraspy voice on the radio and the taste of tears on my lips. There wasan empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, which I attributed to thelonging I felt to see my parents.

Suddenly, as if someone had abruptly opened the curtains in adark room, I was overwhelmed by a breathtaking display in frontof me.

What was previously a typical evening sky was now a brilliantspectacle of pink, yellow, orange, and red. My eyes weredrawn to the focal point of this unfolding masterpiece—thefiery wedge of the setting sun slipping over the horizon until itwas completely gone, leaving in its wake wide brushstrokes ofwarmth and peace.

In that moment, my sadness slipped away as well. I felt anencouragement I hadn't known in months. The fact that I was inprecisely the right location at exactly the right time to witness thisdisplay of hope was a great comfort to my broken soul.

Over the years, I've often thought about that particular sunsetand how easily I could have missed it. There was a time not toolong ago when I might have been talking on the phone, mentallyreviewing a to-do list, or worse, quickly glancing at an incomingemail or text message. By the grace of God, I was fully presentand able to witness a once-in-a-lifetime Sunset Moment. Because,truth be told, this extraordinary sight would have happenedwhether or not I'd taken the time to watch. That astonishingdisplay could have happened right in front of my face, but, had Ibeen distracted, I would have missed it.

Now that I'm on a journey to grasp what really matters, I'vediscovered that everyday life has Sunset Moments too.

As my older daughter instinctively grasps my hand in thegrocery-store parking lot and holds on far longer thannecessary, I realize: This is a Sunset Moment.

As my husband and I sit with the television off and talk abouteverything from the antics of our children to how farwe've come together, I realize: This is a Sunset Moment.

As I experience the tenacious strength of my sturdy legs thatcan run for miles without complaint, I realize: This is aSunset Moment.

As I watch my seventy-four-year-old father make homemadeice cream with his doting granddaughters on the sunlitporch, I realize: This is a Sunset Moment.

Life's Sunset Moments are glorious, rejuvenating, and gratifyingto behold—but when I'm caught up in daily distractions,they are so carelessly missed. If I just pretend to watch, I will missthem. If my hands are too busy doing other things, I will missthem. If my body is present, but my mind is not, I will miss them.If I hold on to distraction tighter than I grasp what really matters,I will miss Sunset Moments time and time again.

My highly distracted years cost me many precious moments.I can't get them back, and so I choose to focus on celebrating thepossibilities that await me each new day. Just as the sun sets andrises again, each day offers a chance to grasp what truly mattersdespite the mistakes of the past. Although I may stumble alongthis journey toward a more meaningful life, experiencing a SunsetMoment is all I need to set my feet back on the right path. Becauseno matter what direction I'm heading, the Sunset Moments steerme toward the life I want to live.

HANDS FREE MAMA

REFLECTION QUESTIONS

What do you consider a valuable use of your time? Does yourdaily agenda reflect this?

Have your distractions taken an undeserved position on yourpriority list?

What parts of life do you not want to miss?

What are you going to do to ensure that you are graspingthe moments that matter today so you don't live with regrettomorrow?