I have been going to my family’s camp in the Adirondacks for 33 years. It was only this summer that our three year old pointed out a no longer functioning door on the front porch- a door I have passed thousands of times. So often, we take for granted our surroundings. When seen with new eyes, what once seemed old becomes new again.
Our seven year old, Freya tends to keep most of her worldly belongings on her bed. When I asked if the box was really necessary, she said, “Yes, that is where I put my bad dreams in the middle of the night.” It made me smile to know that while I might not know where to put the extra crayons in the classroom, Freya has a place for everything.
Where do your “bad dreams” go?
The beginning of the school year means crazy making as both Laura and my schedules kick into high gear. For the life of us we could not figure out a good time in the next week for me to pick up my repaired bike from the shop. I didn’t want to miss prep work at school or the precious little family time that is left. It finally occurred to me to call my mom who came over to stay with the sleeping kids while I picked up the bike and Laura went to a meeting. As I thanked my mom she said, “There is always a third option. I was happy to be yours tonight.”
How can you help yourself or others find the third option?
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?