Responding to a call for water.........a bowl......and how about that trowel in the garage, I decided to stand by the window and watch my little girls playing in the back yard. I was sure they would ask for something else again soon.
I had noticed the girls did not seem to fuss or argue with each other outside. I think they feel they have enough space, and I think they somehow understand the concept of sharing the world outdoors. They have learned to work it out.
One will dig and the other will hold the bucket. Delilah likes to swing and Cami likes to push.
I usually let them play out back alone because I can see them from all the windows in the kitchen and the den and I can always find something TO DO in the kitchen, to clean up from one meal or prepare for the next.
But today, as I lingered by the door after doling out drinks of water, I allowed myself to be swept away, my spirit soaring like the little girl I used to be. And I saw something surprising. I saw my little girls already know something I am spiritually pursuing. Although they look busy at first glance, their busyness has a holy rhythm to it.
They know the doing is not the only important thing. They know how to simply BE.
Enraptured by the crow pecking in the mud for a worm, really feeling the wind lift the hair from their neck, hanging upside down on a swing and taking in the world from a new point of view. The kinds of things I try to remind myself to stop and become aware of, they are naturally enjoying.
And there is another secret I saw unveiled from my post by the door. My girls know how to stop. They will comfortably sit and swing their legs for as long as they want to. They will sing a song, all the verses. They will take a break for water. They will step into the bush or climb up the tree for a closer look at something. Everything is worthwhile. Everything is meaningful. It is all connected.
I'm not sure how we lose it, as adults. We mistake busyness for meaning. We come to see stillness as a waste of time. And with it, we lose more than we understand. There is a great gift in re-capturing the ability to sit comfortably in the pauses of life. I have an idea I will be delighted by what happens in the spaces in between, as soon as I learn to be still and be comfortable with the being.
I had noticed the girls did not seem to fuss or argue with each other outside. I think they feel they have enough space, and I think they somehow understand the concept of sharing the world outdoors. They have learned to work it out.
One will dig and the other will hold the bucket. Delilah likes to swing and Cami likes to push.
I usually let them play out back alone because I can see them from all the windows in the kitchen and the den and I can always find something TO DO in the kitchen, to clean up from one meal or prepare for the next.
But today, as I lingered by the door after doling out drinks of water, I allowed myself to be swept away, my spirit soaring like the little girl I used to be. And I saw something surprising. I saw my little girls already know something I am spiritually pursuing. Although they look busy at first glance, their busyness has a holy rhythm to it.
They know the doing is not the only important thing. They know how to simply BE.
Enraptured by the crow pecking in the mud for a worm, really feeling the wind lift the hair from their neck, hanging upside down on a swing and taking in the world from a new point of view. The kinds of things I try to remind myself to stop and become aware of, they are naturally enjoying.
And there is another secret I saw unveiled from my post by the door. My girls know how to stop. They will comfortably sit and swing their legs for as long as they want to. They will sing a song, all the verses. They will take a break for water. They will step into the bush or climb up the tree for a closer look at something. Everything is worthwhile. Everything is meaningful. It is all connected.
I'm not sure how we lose it, as adults. We mistake busyness for meaning. We come to see stillness as a waste of time. And with it, we lose more than we understand. There is a great gift in re-capturing the ability to sit comfortably in the pauses of life. I have an idea I will be delighted by what happens in the spaces in between, as soon as I learn to be still and be comfortable with the being.
