Skip to main content

Live Your Life

I met a most extraordinary child today. She is a delightful third grader who stole my heart with her smile and bright blue eyes.

We (her mother, grandmother, and siblings) sat on her grandmother's gorgeous wrap around porch taking in the gentle breeze blowing through the pine trees and palmettos. It's an old-Florida setting that makes me think of Majorie Kinnan Rawlings in the middle of the Florida scrub writing her novels. You cannot sit there without taking a deep breath and letting the heavy, late summer air soak into your skin and draw out your anxiety.

Hannah drew imaginary drawings with her fingertips in the round wooden table and told us that she cannot wait until she is an adult and a teacher. Her older sister cautioned her that she didn't want to grow up fast because that meant she had to pay bills. Without skipping a beat, Hannah looked up and said, "Yes, I do want to pay my bills and have a job because that means I'm living my life. You have to live your life."

And that's the moment she completely won me over.

I can so easily get caught up in the pressures and worries of my day to day life. We all do. Yet, getting up in the morning and going to work and washing my dishes and doing the laundry and even paying my bills are all part of my life. And I'm now grateful for them in an entirely new way.

This is my life. Every last inch of it. I'm determined to savor the moments and watch the experiences unfold. I'm certainly not there yet, but I'm getting closer. It's filled with beauty if I'm willing to accept it.

Comments

Christy said…
I love that girl too :)
Sometimes "living your life" is too much and you have to sit on a porch and breathe, but it's taking care of all the mundane stuff that gives us the freedom to do and be what we want.

Popular posts from this blog

Pardon the Interruption

It's 10:00. My race clothes are laying across the top of the dog crate. I've already consumed my all-natural sleep aid. The alarm is set for 4:45 in the morning. I should be sleeping, but my mind is spinning at an unnatural rate. Remember this poem ? The subject of that poem married just a few weeks ago, and I just finished looking through his wedding photos. It's a strange feeling. Not one of loss. Or Regret. Or even wistfulness. I'm thoroughly happy for both of them in a way that will seriously not make sense to most of the people I know. I suppose there will always be an odd sense of knowing in a situation like this. I know the feel of those lips. I've seen that look in his eyes. What I felt for him was real and pure and drives the feeling of satisfaction that is currently overwhelming me. I love knowing that he's in love--even if it's not with me. I even saved my favorite photo to my computer because the image stirred something in me that needs to be sti...

On Muchness

A dear friend confessed to me last night that he had lost his muchness and found it again. I confessed the same and even admitted the ridiculous series of events that recently sapped my own muchness. That little confession seemed to do wonders. It's so easy to fall out of step with myself. In fact, I do it quite naturally. Growing up in a Christian home, I took to heart the instructions to love my neighbor more than I love myself. Oh, wait! I just checked the scripture. "Love your neighbor as yourself." I may have been doing this the wrong way. I ended 2010 with the resolution that I would no longer make decisions out of fear. I am starting 2011 with the resolution to make decisions based on what I want. I've struggled with this because I've always believed that I should consider the needs and wants of others before my own. I'd like to think this is a valiant approach, but the truth is that it only leads to martyrdom...and I don't think I was given the opp...

TMI and Tidal Waves

As usual, it's been a busy week around these parts, and none of my activities this week involved running. If my grandmother could hear at the moment and complete a sentence without hacking up a lung, she'd ask me what's wrong. I'd have to confess that my eczema has flared up in this oh-so-cold-there's-ice-on-my-car south Florida weather, and my skin is so itchy that I have bruises up and down my limbs from all the scratching I've been doing. There are some days I'm relieved to know men with calloused hands. (Before you take that last comment too seriously, remind yourself that I am writing this at 9:30 on a Friday night.) Anyway... I met up for coffee with someone last night who proved to stoke my creative juices. I'll spare you the details of the conversation, but I did have to stop him mid sentence to point out that that particular conversation will most definitely become part of "La Isla Encontrada." Fortunately, he agreed to it, and I fully...