I've said it before, and I'll say it again for emphasis: There's no such thing (to me) as patiently waiting.
I'm impatient by nature. I want things to happen now, if not yesterday. At a meeting today, people chuckled when I clapped at someone else's comment that we can't wait any longer. I imagine they were surprised I didn't say it first. Apparently I have a comrade in arms.
It's been a challenging week. I'm waiting for something to happen that I'd prefer not happen at all. But if it has to happen, get it over with. I don't want to wait until next week. Just do it.
I remember my mother saying, "Watched water never boils." Actually, if you have enough flame under a kettle, it has to boil. But her point was, why stand there and watch it? It will seem to take longer that way. Go do something else.
So I'm not watching the pot. The week is busy enough. I have more than enough to do without fretting over something that will come anyway. There's almost nothing I can do about it.
There are lots of frustrations in life like that. Meetings that are cancelled or delayed. Having to wait at an office. Getting stuck in traffic. Watching the little wheel spin when a computer process takes a minute. Submitting an application and waiting for an answer.
Most of the time, that's just the way it is. Sometimes it's someone's decision or inaction that causes it. While there's rarely a point to getting steamed, I often do. I recall hearing that getting angry shortens your life. So, how much time have I lost?
The more I have to wait, the less patience I seem to have. I'm not getting any better at being patient. In fact, I seem to be growing more impatient about my impatience. Frustrated about being frustrated.
I'm not watching the kettle, or thinking about the week-off event. I think I'm going to bed. I have no impatience about sleep at all.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Change and changing, our actions impact the lives of others
In His time. Such a hard lesson for me to learn. I think I've learned it and then I find myself out there doing it again, pushing for something to happen. Thinking that I have any control. And finding myself up against a wall of impossibility. Frustrating myself. Blaming others. Then realizing it wasn't mine to determine at all.
We live in this world. We have the ability to act and move, communicate and feel. But in all truth, if we are who we say we are -- Whose we say we are -- we are acting as His hands, feet, mouth and ears in this place. He is in control. Or She, if you like that picture better.
I catch myself observing life sometimes as if I was the third person, watching the interactions. Just glimpses of how our moments are so fleeting, yet so complex. We see many of our moments wasted, even as we know our time is so limited. Why can't this succeed? We needed this to happen yesterday. Come on! Don't you see how important this is?
Then, all of a sudden, a break through. Something changes. Another situation comes along to impact the first one, like the pool ball from a second shot dropping the stationery ball into the pocket. Except it's not so random. It occurred, not in my time, but His time, the right time.
Something happened today that I've waited three years to happen. Impatient me, thinking my frustrated thoughts about the people who had the ability to act and didn't. Yet something changed, and started the chain in motion. In September 2014, it was the right time.
How often am I on the other side, not acting when someone desperately wants something to happen? Frustrated that life is happening too slowly, an excruciatingly painful pace.
Here I am, actor and acted upon, changed and changing. A piece of His hands and feet, interdependent on others to be the continuation of the action.
Welcome to the world. Be the change you want to see, because the piece that only He sees is that we are the change agent for someone else.
We live in this world. We have the ability to act and move, communicate and feel. But in all truth, if we are who we say we are -- Whose we say we are -- we are acting as His hands, feet, mouth and ears in this place. He is in control. Or She, if you like that picture better.
I catch myself observing life sometimes as if I was the third person, watching the interactions. Just glimpses of how our moments are so fleeting, yet so complex. We see many of our moments wasted, even as we know our time is so limited. Why can't this succeed? We needed this to happen yesterday. Come on! Don't you see how important this is?
Then, all of a sudden, a break through. Something changes. Another situation comes along to impact the first one, like the pool ball from a second shot dropping the stationery ball into the pocket. Except it's not so random. It occurred, not in my time, but His time, the right time.
Something happened today that I've waited three years to happen. Impatient me, thinking my frustrated thoughts about the people who had the ability to act and didn't. Yet something changed, and started the chain in motion. In September 2014, it was the right time.
How often am I on the other side, not acting when someone desperately wants something to happen? Frustrated that life is happening too slowly, an excruciatingly painful pace.
Here I am, actor and acted upon, changed and changing. A piece of His hands and feet, interdependent on others to be the continuation of the action.
Welcome to the world. Be the change you want to see, because the piece that only He sees is that we are the change agent for someone else.
Friday, September 5, 2014
A gift of time to contemplate and do the inner work
What do you do when you expect a 90-minute blank space in the schedule? It would be so easy these days to fill it with music, phone conversations, information and other electronic noise.
But today marked a drive to the Valley. And I don't drive to the Valley much anymore. With my mind filled with personal, local and global concerns, I shut off the radio and phone and just allowed myself the space to "contemplate the universe." Connect with myself and God. Listen. Wait.
I went back to a place I experienced in my teen years. Solitude. Before the noise of life increased. No cell phones. No internet. Our youth pastor collected some appliance boxes and directed us to occupy said cardboard. She wasn't thinking homeless simulation. Just isolation. Time to think and pray and be alone with ourselves. At the time, I didn't want to admit it was actually useful. Today I could use that box more often. I'd add a cushion or pillow -- these 50-year-old bones don't do unpadded surfaces very well these days.
Rarely is there a time of solitude from my first waking moment to my last thought before sleep takes over. Spouse. Co-workers. Work. Music. Social media. Email. Maybe television or a movie. If there's any solitude, it's in my truck or the shower.
So, once I shared a few thoughts about current situations with God, I just let the time pass. And clearly, my mind wasn't vacant. "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you."
Enemies? I don't really have them. But there are certainly people who rub me the wrong way and seem to do everything in their power to work against me. Just because there isn't outright warfare doesn't mean there's not conflict.
It's easy to pray for the people you like. It's fairly easy to pray for those you don't know very well. But how about those people who oppose you? Those who you don't think deserve a shot of your attention? The words catch in the back of your throat as you say, "God, I think ________ needs your help." Or better yet, "God, help me to see ____________ as a child of God with the gifts you have given him/her." A handful of names quickly came to mind, and will remain there until my prayers turn my heart.
Then add two more people to the list. My husband. Yesterday didn't go very well. And the last couple of days, and if I'm really truthful, the last couple of weeks. Lately, it doesn't take much to make one of us snap at the other. "Heal us, God. Work from within to knock down The Wall.*"
And then there's me. It's easy to pray for what I think I need, but harder to pray for what I actually need. Patience. Self-control. Harder still to look for those sharp edges that God still needs to wear down.
I love the way The Message explains this piece of the Sermon on the Mount that I've heard over and over. Matthew 5:43-48 43-47 “You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend,’ and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’ I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer, for then you are working out of your true selves, your God-created selves. This is what God does. He gives his best—the sun to warm and the rain to nourish—to everyone, regardless: the good and bad, the nice and nasty. If all you do is love the lovable, do you expect a bonus? Anybody can do that. If you simply say hello to those who greet you, do you expect a medal? Any run-of-the-mill sinner does that.
48 “In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”
*The Wall, an anonymous poem.
The Wall
Their wedding picture mocked them from the table,
These two whose minds no longer touched each other.
They lived with such a heavy barricade between them
That neither battering ram of words
Nor artilleries of touch could break it down.
Somewhere, between the oldest child's first tooth
And the youngest daughter's graduation,
They lost each other.
Throughout the years each slowly unraveled
That tangled ball of string called self,
And as they tugged at stubborn knots,
Each hid his searching from the other.
Sometimes she cried at night
And begged the whispering darkness to tell her who she was.
He lay beside her, snoring like a hibernating bear,
Unaware of her winter.
Once, after they had made love,
He wanted to tell her how afraid he was of dying,
But, fearing to show his naked soul,
He spoke instead about the beauty of her breasts.
She took a course in modern art,
Trying to find herself in colors splashed upon a canvas,
Complaining to other women about men who are insensitive.
He climbed into a tomb called "The Office,"
Wrapped his mind in a shroud of paper figures,
And buried himself in customers. Slowly, the wall between them rose,
Cemented by the mortar of indifference.
One day, reaching out to touch each other
They found a barrier they could not penetrate,
And recoiling from the coldness of the stone,
Each retreated from the stranger on the other side.
For when love dies, it is not in a moment of angry battle,
Nor when fiery bodies lose their heat.
It lies panting, exhausted,
Expiring at the bottom of a wall it could not scale.
But today marked a drive to the Valley. And I don't drive to the Valley much anymore. With my mind filled with personal, local and global concerns, I shut off the radio and phone and just allowed myself the space to "contemplate the universe." Connect with myself and God. Listen. Wait.
I went back to a place I experienced in my teen years. Solitude. Before the noise of life increased. No cell phones. No internet. Our youth pastor collected some appliance boxes and directed us to occupy said cardboard. She wasn't thinking homeless simulation. Just isolation. Time to think and pray and be alone with ourselves. At the time, I didn't want to admit it was actually useful. Today I could use that box more often. I'd add a cushion or pillow -- these 50-year-old bones don't do unpadded surfaces very well these days.
Rarely is there a time of solitude from my first waking moment to my last thought before sleep takes over. Spouse. Co-workers. Work. Music. Social media. Email. Maybe television or a movie. If there's any solitude, it's in my truck or the shower.
So, once I shared a few thoughts about current situations with God, I just let the time pass. And clearly, my mind wasn't vacant. "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you."
Enemies? I don't really have them. But there are certainly people who rub me the wrong way and seem to do everything in their power to work against me. Just because there isn't outright warfare doesn't mean there's not conflict.
It's easy to pray for the people you like. It's fairly easy to pray for those you don't know very well. But how about those people who oppose you? Those who you don't think deserve a shot of your attention? The words catch in the back of your throat as you say, "God, I think ________ needs your help." Or better yet, "God, help me to see ____________ as a child of God with the gifts you have given him/her." A handful of names quickly came to mind, and will remain there until my prayers turn my heart.
Then add two more people to the list. My husband. Yesterday didn't go very well. And the last couple of days, and if I'm really truthful, the last couple of weeks. Lately, it doesn't take much to make one of us snap at the other. "Heal us, God. Work from within to knock down The Wall.*"
And then there's me. It's easy to pray for what I think I need, but harder to pray for what I actually need. Patience. Self-control. Harder still to look for those sharp edges that God still needs to wear down.
I love the way The Message explains this piece of the Sermon on the Mount that I've heard over and over. Matthew 5:43-48 43-47 “You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend,’ and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’ I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer, for then you are working out of your true selves, your God-created selves. This is what God does. He gives his best—the sun to warm and the rain to nourish—to everyone, regardless: the good and bad, the nice and nasty. If all you do is love the lovable, do you expect a bonus? Anybody can do that. If you simply say hello to those who greet you, do you expect a medal? Any run-of-the-mill sinner does that.
48 “In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”
*The Wall, an anonymous poem.
The Wall
Their wedding picture mocked them from the table,
These two whose minds no longer touched each other.
They lived with such a heavy barricade between them
That neither battering ram of words
Nor artilleries of touch could break it down.
Somewhere, between the oldest child's first tooth
And the youngest daughter's graduation,
They lost each other.
Throughout the years each slowly unraveled
That tangled ball of string called self,
And as they tugged at stubborn knots,
Each hid his searching from the other.
Sometimes she cried at night
And begged the whispering darkness to tell her who she was.
He lay beside her, snoring like a hibernating bear,
Unaware of her winter.
Once, after they had made love,
He wanted to tell her how afraid he was of dying,
But, fearing to show his naked soul,
He spoke instead about the beauty of her breasts.
She took a course in modern art,
Trying to find herself in colors splashed upon a canvas,
Complaining to other women about men who are insensitive.
He climbed into a tomb called "The Office,"
Wrapped his mind in a shroud of paper figures,
And buried himself in customers. Slowly, the wall between them rose,
Cemented by the mortar of indifference.
One day, reaching out to touch each other
They found a barrier they could not penetrate,
And recoiling from the coldness of the stone,
Each retreated from the stranger on the other side.
For when love dies, it is not in a moment of angry battle,
Nor when fiery bodies lose their heat.
It lies panting, exhausted,
Expiring at the bottom of a wall it could not scale.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
When nothing is going your way, rejoice! Wait, what?
Disappointment. That feeling of wanting something that you didn't get. Whether it was the perfect marriage, the job offer or pay raise, the family relationships that others enjoy. Disappointment is a longing unsatisfied. It is often mixed with envy or frustration, grief or resentment.
Most of us could unload a litany of disappointments in our lives. I know it wouldn't be hard for me to create a pretty lengthy list, and go right back to the anger and sadness those occasions generated. So unfair. Why me?
The pragmatist in me tells me that digging up old hurts is unproductive. The jobs and job opportunities are gone. There are good and bad moments with family members. People move through your life like confetti -- only a few pieces stick. Projects that you work at sometimes fail, and sometimes are destroyed by other people. People aren't always fair and honest. You move on.
The inspirational part of me tries to find something positive to take from it. Looking back, the job probably wouldn't have been the best career move. Having to deal with tough family issues has made me a stronger person. I found something better after that opportunity crashed and burned.
I wish I were that perfect person who accepted and liked the way things turned out. But disappointments caused a lot of hurt in my life, hurt that continues to this day. I can't let go and the resentment eats at me. Hurt people hurt people. You can name it, talk about it, bury it, but no matter what you do, it still bubbles up or gushes a deadly, poisonous river of venom at some moment. Sometimes another person is the victim, but more often, the victim is me.
The Bible points to these moments as trials, and I know I'm failing miserably. Romans 5: 3-5 (NLT) says this: 3 We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. 4 And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. 5 And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.
Rejoice? I looked for some other translations, and the words only got harder. Celebrate, shout our praise, be glad? Sure, I'm throwing a party next time I experience a bad break. We can boast, we can take pride in...yep, surely that's the kind of event I want to brag about in my life. Paul, you're a better man than I am.
Paul ends up being my role model in the Bible more often than not. And in disappointments, I still have a long way to go before I can turn my mourning into dancing, my discouragement into celebration.
Most of us could unload a litany of disappointments in our lives. I know it wouldn't be hard for me to create a pretty lengthy list, and go right back to the anger and sadness those occasions generated. So unfair. Why me?
The pragmatist in me tells me that digging up old hurts is unproductive. The jobs and job opportunities are gone. There are good and bad moments with family members. People move through your life like confetti -- only a few pieces stick. Projects that you work at sometimes fail, and sometimes are destroyed by other people. People aren't always fair and honest. You move on.
The inspirational part of me tries to find something positive to take from it. Looking back, the job probably wouldn't have been the best career move. Having to deal with tough family issues has made me a stronger person. I found something better after that opportunity crashed and burned.
I wish I were that perfect person who accepted and liked the way things turned out. But disappointments caused a lot of hurt in my life, hurt that continues to this day. I can't let go and the resentment eats at me. Hurt people hurt people. You can name it, talk about it, bury it, but no matter what you do, it still bubbles up or gushes a deadly, poisonous river of venom at some moment. Sometimes another person is the victim, but more often, the victim is me.
The Bible points to these moments as trials, and I know I'm failing miserably. Romans 5: 3-5 (NLT) says this: 3 We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. 4 And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. 5 And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.
Rejoice? I looked for some other translations, and the words only got harder. Celebrate, shout our praise, be glad? Sure, I'm throwing a party next time I experience a bad break. We can boast, we can take pride in...yep, surely that's the kind of event I want to brag about in my life. Paul, you're a better man than I am.
Paul ends up being my role model in the Bible more often than not. And in disappointments, I still have a long way to go before I can turn my mourning into dancing, my discouragement into celebration.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
What happened?
When I was growing up, if there was a family that was struggling, grieving or somehow disrupted, the entire church, neighborhood or community would pitch in. Even up to 9/11, when the country experienced a tragedy, people pulled together, went to donate blood, went to Ground Zero, and gathered to pray.
What happened?
In the years since 2001, people's compassion has gone out the window. The left bashes the right, the red slams the blue, and people who are struggling somehow deserve it. The homeless and hungry don't deserve assistance -- they are weak and lazy. People who are earning minimum wage need to go out and find another job if they can't live on $7.25/hour ($290/week, gross pay).
Years ago, communities used to take pride in the accomplishments of their kids. How many seniors went to college, how many scholarships, how many military academy appointments were numbers about which a whole town would brag. Today, adults talk about how bad kids are, how today's kids are useless, and how they will never spend an extra dime on education.
From people losing their jobs when a factory closes to someone's health crisis, there's always a critic trying to blame those who are suffering. If people would have worked harder, they wouldn't have outsourced the jobs to China or Mexico. If people would just take better care of themselves we wouldn't be paying such exorbitant fees for health care.
Basically, the world has become a cold-hearted, mean-spirited, blame-the-victim place. Tough it out, take care of yourself, because no one is going to be there for you. I've got mine, and I don't need anything from anyone, so go away and leave me alone.
Read the comments after stories in the national and local news, and you wonder if you're still living in the same communities that existed before 2001. Could those same people be there? Are people suffering from hardening of the heart, mind and soul?
What happened?
Fueled by a divided political and media atmosphere, people have chosen sides. The undecided have jumped on the bandwagon of political conservatism. The right has become vocal: we need to protect what we have from the 47%. We're losing ground and only by keeping the other half in their place do we stay in ours.
Fear is paramount. We could become them in a heartbeat. We need to protect ourselves from losing anything.
Lost? We've already lost the important stuff. Justice, compassion and goodwill for our fellow man.
What happened?
In the years since 2001, people's compassion has gone out the window. The left bashes the right, the red slams the blue, and people who are struggling somehow deserve it. The homeless and hungry don't deserve assistance -- they are weak and lazy. People who are earning minimum wage need to go out and find another job if they can't live on $7.25/hour ($290/week, gross pay).
Years ago, communities used to take pride in the accomplishments of their kids. How many seniors went to college, how many scholarships, how many military academy appointments were numbers about which a whole town would brag. Today, adults talk about how bad kids are, how today's kids are useless, and how they will never spend an extra dime on education.
From people losing their jobs when a factory closes to someone's health crisis, there's always a critic trying to blame those who are suffering. If people would have worked harder, they wouldn't have outsourced the jobs to China or Mexico. If people would just take better care of themselves we wouldn't be paying such exorbitant fees for health care.
Basically, the world has become a cold-hearted, mean-spirited, blame-the-victim place. Tough it out, take care of yourself, because no one is going to be there for you. I've got mine, and I don't need anything from anyone, so go away and leave me alone.
Read the comments after stories in the national and local news, and you wonder if you're still living in the same communities that existed before 2001. Could those same people be there? Are people suffering from hardening of the heart, mind and soul?
What happened?
Fueled by a divided political and media atmosphere, people have chosen sides. The undecided have jumped on the bandwagon of political conservatism. The right has become vocal: we need to protect what we have from the 47%. We're losing ground and only by keeping the other half in their place do we stay in ours.
Fear is paramount. We could become them in a heartbeat. We need to protect ourselves from losing anything.
Lost? We've already lost the important stuff. Justice, compassion and goodwill for our fellow man.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Gardens need tending, but the results are amazing
Not my cup runneth over. My baskets runneth over. I went to my garden plots today.
I reserved two garden plots at the Community Garden this year. My backyard garden has never grown particularly well. There's a couple of things about the Community Garden that beats backyard gardening. First, it's a community -- I've met some nice people. Second, there's an educational component. Third, the ground has been worked for a couple of years. And finally, it is fenced and locked. My dog can't dig around in it.
The downside is, it's not in my backyard. I have to go out of my way to go there. And the garden has acquired a creeping vine that comes up everywhere.
So, it's monsoon season. And it's been days since I've been there. And as soon as I arrived, two things became rather obvious. The weeds are way ahead. And I should have picked produce a couple of days ago. I had to toss a couple of tomatoes. Some of the beans are a little past their prime. But the one Walmart bag I brought for the harvesting was barely big enough. I walked out with it stuffed to the top with tomatoes, beans and peppers. When I went to fill my garden basket, it overflowed. Second basket was over halfway full of tomatoes. Wow.
There's something joyful and relaxing about working in the garden. I tilled that soil. I added alpaca manure. I planted some seeds, and look what happened. Plants came up and then the blossoms set. The little beans and tomatoes and peppers appeared. I waited until they were the right size and color, and voila! I'm sure I've already paid for my supplies in fresh produce. I know I've paid for it in satisfaction.
As I picked and pulled weeds, it occurred to me that we aren't that much different from what's growing in the plots. All of us need some sunlight and lots of water, some harvesting and a little weeding from time to time. We need the Gardener to keep us straight and well-tended. Gardens don't grow to perfection without oversight and tending.
I still have zucchini and butternut squash to come. Onions and carrots are growing under the surface. I saw a little lettuce that I wasn't sure was even going to sprout. I planted a coleus and some nasturtiums and they are gorgeous.
I have enough to share -- perhaps with co-workers, maybe down at Open Door. I will freeze some of the beans for this fall and winter. I've eaten a few beans and tomatoes straight out of the garden, the freshest harvest you can experience. Mmm -- nothing like the taste of totally fresh vegetables.
I reserved two garden plots at the Community Garden this year. My backyard garden has never grown particularly well. There's a couple of things about the Community Garden that beats backyard gardening. First, it's a community -- I've met some nice people. Second, there's an educational component. Third, the ground has been worked for a couple of years. And finally, it is fenced and locked. My dog can't dig around in it.
The downside is, it's not in my backyard. I have to go out of my way to go there. And the garden has acquired a creeping vine that comes up everywhere.
So, it's monsoon season. And it's been days since I've been there. And as soon as I arrived, two things became rather obvious. The weeds are way ahead. And I should have picked produce a couple of days ago. I had to toss a couple of tomatoes. Some of the beans are a little past their prime. But the one Walmart bag I brought for the harvesting was barely big enough. I walked out with it stuffed to the top with tomatoes, beans and peppers. When I went to fill my garden basket, it overflowed. Second basket was over halfway full of tomatoes. Wow.
There's something joyful and relaxing about working in the garden. I tilled that soil. I added alpaca manure. I planted some seeds, and look what happened. Plants came up and then the blossoms set. The little beans and tomatoes and peppers appeared. I waited until they were the right size and color, and voila! I'm sure I've already paid for my supplies in fresh produce. I know I've paid for it in satisfaction.
As I picked and pulled weeds, it occurred to me that we aren't that much different from what's growing in the plots. All of us need some sunlight and lots of water, some harvesting and a little weeding from time to time. We need the Gardener to keep us straight and well-tended. Gardens don't grow to perfection without oversight and tending.
I still have zucchini and butternut squash to come. Onions and carrots are growing under the surface. I saw a little lettuce that I wasn't sure was even going to sprout. I planted a coleus and some nasturtiums and they are gorgeous.
I have enough to share -- perhaps with co-workers, maybe down at Open Door. I will freeze some of the beans for this fall and winter. I've eaten a few beans and tomatoes straight out of the garden, the freshest harvest you can experience. Mmm -- nothing like the taste of totally fresh vegetables.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
With love, to my son
I've lost the quote and cannot locate it. But it goes something like this: every parent has the right to believe their children are the world's smartest, most beautiful creations to ever walk this earth.
If not their parents, who else? Other parents should be wrapped in the same beliefs about their children. Childless people cannot relate to why this small being we created is so precious to us. Teachers, child care workers, medical professionals cannot choose between all of their precious charges. Nope, it's up to us as parents. Every child should feel unconditional love, and know that his or her parents madly love everything about him or her.
Today, as my son turns 24, I waited up until midnight to spring a dastardly deed on him -- posting younger pictures of him on Facebook and tagging him, so his friends would see them. I deserved everything he might say. Instead, he was the first person to say it: "I am adorable."
Are you kidding? Of course you're adorable: those blond curls before your first haircut when you were 2? The smile on your face when the lorikeets piled on you at the San Diego Zoo for the nectar you were holding? The same delight when the love of your life snuggled up against your shoulder. The kindness and gentleness, the playfulness and joy piled into that body since your first snuggles and hugs -- you ARE adorable. The best thing your dad and I ever did was decide to have you.
I'm not going into your moments. Everyone has them. As you grow up, they are becoming fewer and fewer, as you choose to put other people and priorities first. You are living on your own, so the moments we intersect are fewer, and mostly pleasant.
So, even if you have no blond curls, and your days of zoo visits have come and gone, you are adorable. Our faces light up every time we see you. The past 24 years have been the best ones of our lives, and we can't wait to watch your future keep unfolding.
If not their parents, who else? Other parents should be wrapped in the same beliefs about their children. Childless people cannot relate to why this small being we created is so precious to us. Teachers, child care workers, medical professionals cannot choose between all of their precious charges. Nope, it's up to us as parents. Every child should feel unconditional love, and know that his or her parents madly love everything about him or her.
Are you kidding? Of course you're adorable: those blond curls before your first haircut when you were 2? The smile on your face when the lorikeets piled on you at the San Diego Zoo for the nectar you were holding? The same delight when the love of your life snuggled up against your shoulder. The kindness and gentleness, the playfulness and joy piled into that body since your first snuggles and hugs -- you ARE adorable. The best thing your dad and I ever did was decide to have you.
I'm not going into your moments. Everyone has them. As you grow up, they are becoming fewer and fewer, as you choose to put other people and priorities first. You are living on your own, so the moments we intersect are fewer, and mostly pleasant.
So, even if you have no blond curls, and your days of zoo visits have come and gone, you are adorable. Our faces light up every time we see you. The past 24 years have been the best ones of our lives, and we can't wait to watch your future keep unfolding.
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