I know I am supposed to like texting. I am relatively techno savvy and a woman of the 21st century. It makes sense to send a quick message when the kids are screaming or I am communicating with someone who can’t talk of doesn’t like the phone. However, there is something irreplaceable about hearing a person’s tone of voice and getting immediate feedback. So while I am thankful for any communication tool, I must admit, I love an old fashioned conversation.
How can we embrace current trends in society while reconciling with our antiquated preferences?
After persuading a neighbor kid to help watch the kids so I could pick as many berries as possible to last the winter, I stared down at the blueberry bush in front of me and felt a wave of disappointment. There were no berries to be seen. Just as I was ready to cut my losses, I glimpsed a tiny blue orb toward the bottom of the bush. Down on my hands and knees, I looked up at the bush from below. Lo and behold, in front of me hung a plethora of blueberries, ripe for the picking. I just needed to look at the bush from a different angle.
When has a different angle helped you find something?
“Mommy is mowing outside, but it doesn’t sound like mowing, it sounds like music.”
How can we think like three year olds in order to hear the music of our daily routine? Will seeking out song transform the mundane?
Everyone on our street gathered together this afternoon to share food and company. Among the old timers were several new families who shared their heartfelt thanks for the opportunity to get to know each other and build community. There was one woman there who spoke absolutely no English, however at the end of the the night she shared through translation that she couldn’t have asked for a better party. She said everyone had a wonderful energy.
How can we be conscious of the energy we bring, regardless of the language we speak?
Our mail comes late everyday. Hours ago, we had gotten a call from Freya’s best friend saying which teacher she got. Now Freya waited on the front stoop with baited breath, jumping at every vehicular sound that came down our street. When Mailman Jim finally turned the corner, Freya raced to the edge of the driveway and darted to the mailbox, the warmth of Jim’s hand, inevitably still heating the letter.
How do we maintain a sense of excited anticipation in our lives even when we are beyond second grade?
My wife has a dry, sarcastic, sense of humor. While I appreciate the art, I don’t know how to dish it back. Thankfully my best friend’s husband is the king of sarcasm. Their banter and smiles commence before they are fully out of their cars. Their repartee, is like a perfectly written script. As an audience member, I realized it had been way too long since the stage had been set for this performance in which we were all perfectly cast, and incredibly content.
How do we make time for the company that makes us smile to our toes?
The emails are starting to roll in and the to do list is mounting. Last year’s test scores, this year’s assignments, tech prep…it is all a reminder that this family focused summer is coming to a close. I love my job, I am thrilled to do what I do, but I must figure out a way to use this knot in my stomach to work for me and not against me. How do I do that?
How do we march into transitions using all of our nerves to propel us forward?