Skip to main content

Kindness and a reasonable pace

My mom is old.

Even she will tell you that.  It wasn't too long ago, that she told me (only partly in jest), that the real shock wasn't looking in the mirror and seeing your mother - it was seeing your grandmother.  No magic potions or Dorian Grey-portraiture for us.

With age comes a distinct lack of speed.  She walks slowly.  She is a bit slower at the grocery store.  It takes her a moment longer to get her change back in her wallet and her wallet back in her purse, then pick up her cane and her purchase and move on.  And with this realization, I have something to say to all of you:

SLOW DOWN!!!

Really, you are in that much of a hurry to buy your 12 pack of soda and your box of Honey Nut Cheerios?  You are on your way to a rocket launch and can't wait 15 more seconds at the shoe store?  Really?? 

We are all in such a hurry today, and we don't take the time to acknowledge the people in front of us.  That kid that gathers carts at the grocery store?  Make his life a little easier and put your cart in the little "corral".  The old lady at the dentist office that is struggling with her coat?  Help her out.  The old man down the street who yells at your kid for riding his bike on the lawn?  Take him some cookies and tell him you were thinking of him. 

People are not obstacles to be overcome or gotten around.  People are the very reason we exist - to serve them, get to know them, share their burdens and their joys.  Slow down today, and acknowledge those people in your life that you might otherwise overlook.  Slow down.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Trying to "end run" God

If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.

Of course, it never works.

Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.

But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.

But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…

Secret Santa!!

Too old for Santa? I think not.

Yes, there are discussions as to whether we should "lie" to kids and tell them that Santa brings them gifts vs. We can't lie to the kids; it's wrong.

There is also the "Christmas is about Jesus" vs. "But Santa is magical!"

You know, we have so few magical and joyful moments, and less and less as we get older. Santa is fun. And the kids usually figure it out, and no one I know was ever scarred for life for believing that Santa brought them and every child everywhere a toy for Christmas.

It's the magic of looking up at the sky on a clear December night, thinking "I'll wait up to see Santa" and later, as you fell asleep at the window, being in your daddy's arms as he carries you to bed.

It's the magic of putting out cookies and milk (or beer, because Santa does like beer) and maybe some carrots for the reindeer, and then checking in the morning to make sure the food was all consumed.

It's…

Advent Brokenness

It was a lovely May evening, the kind we in Michigan savor like honey. After the brutal cold of winter, flowers blossomed, grass greened, mosquitoes flocked. School was almost done for the year - just the formalities of 8th grade graduation were ahead.

Why not saddle up the horse and go for a ride? Why not, indeed. So my sister and I did. I took Prince out across the road from our house, to romp through the weeds on a path my father mowed for us. The view from horseback on a spring night - well, nearly Heaven.

Until Prince bolted. He spooked. I fell. And my arm broke. Compound fracture.

My dog, a collie, had followed us out. He was not particularly trusting of Prince, as Prince would never allow himself to be herded, and this vexed my collie. My dog, channeling his inner Lassie, ran home without me.

My sister had been in the yard with her boyfriend at the time, Gary, waiting for me to come back. Instead, it was just the dog loping across the road. That didn't seem right, so my si…