Wednesday, September 9, 2020
Today I am grateful I know when to take a minute. I feel like I should give our entire country a “time-out” these days. Me included.
Look, the world is made up of so many of us who can multi-task, bouncing easily between two or three different things at a time. But this? This defies description. I can’t even list all of the life-changing things that are happening these days. So, I won’t. Because I know you know them anyway and don’t need to hear them again any more than I do.
Even though we are overwhelmed, no especially because we are overwhelmed, we need to take a minute for ourselves. We need to stop all intake of information and remember who we are. It is only in the quiet that our true selves, our true opinions, our true hearts will come forward.
Way too many times everyone is yelling as fast as they can. Listen to the news for ten minutes and invariably there will be someone screaming about something. And it’s not only the politicians. Game shows have screamers. Home improvement shows have screamers. Talk-shows have screamers. Sit-coms have screamers.
Even some singers don’t sing anymore. They scream. And the louder they scream, the happier their “audiences” are. But not me. I can’t take the noise, even if it is on some sort of melodic line.
Yesterday we had the four-year-old over. We harvested basil, cleaned it, snipped the stems off, then threw it in the food processer, added ingredients and made pesto.
Then we harvested the last of my unimpressive tomatoes, chopped them, added ingredients and made two tomato pies, one for us and one for her family. She was at my side snipping and cutting and adding and jabbering the entire time. Kids will do anything you want if you let them play with gizmos and power stuff. And you have to expect a little mess. Sometimes more than a little, but it’s so worth it.
After we cleaned up, grandma needed a little rest. “This is when you have to find something to play with by yourself,” I told her. It’s called independent play,” This is a common occurrence at grandma’s so she played with both of the marble games, then dumped out all of the pick-up sticks and picked them up, but not according to the rules. So what. It’s independent, therefore, by definition, none of my business.
Five minutes later, (sometimes it seems independent play is a race) when she tired of all of that, she arranged two small pillows the way she always does, one to sit on, one to lean against, dead center in the middle of the couch. She piled the books next to her, climbed up and sat there reading for twenty minutes, flipping through one book after another. Independently.
Of course, I read all of those books to her before she left, which seemed somehow more exciting to her than if she hadn’t already gone through them herself.
I didn’t nod off. She didn’t nod off. We just needed to take a minute. Both of us. Although I don’t know if she would agree. What about you? Do you take a minute when you need it?