More

What do I wish that I had done more of in 2011?

Deep breathing. Settling into yoga poses. Kneading dough instead of just selling bread. Playing with children, with adults, with words, with paints. Taking risks. I’ve been reactive and safe. I’ve been distant and removed while grinding myself into a boring and work focused being. Instead of looking at the words tattooed on my wrist ("Live Now") and feeling taunted by them- I wish that I had used them as the reminder that I intended when I had them placed there. 

This weekend my great uncle James was buried in Fayette, Alabama. The man who taught me to love college football and introduced me to the wonders of fried okra is now gone. He lived 96 full years. I last saw him the day of his 90^th birthday party. I remember him breaking into song to entertain the huge group that had gathered to celebrate him. I am thankful that I was there that day. I love that I can close my eyes now and see him standing in the church rec room, spontaneously performing for us all. There are not words to describe how much I regret not being there for him in the years between then and now. The years when the pain in his knees increased, his ability to grow his once magical garden faded, and his body allowed him less independence and mobility. My heart breaks that my strong and beautiful aunt has lost her partner and that I’ve not made space or time to be there for her.

I didn’t go to his funeral. I worked a 10 hour day instead. I was afraid to go. Having not been around my family much, I worried that showing up would hurt some of my family members. I feared judgment for my absence and my distance. I realize now that the harshest judge of me and my choices is in my head.

What do I wish that I had done more of in 2011?

More living. Less hiding. Less grinding away at work that I don’t care about. More letting the people I love know how much I love and appreciate them.

All I need

It is painfully clear as I follow the news that there are few guarantees in this life. Over the last days and weeks, I've buried my head under blankets, in my Netflix queue and in my work. No words that I've strung together have helped me make sense of the changes our world is undergoing. Like many of you, I've run through a spectrum of reactions. Awe, horror, fear, guilt, distance, tears, numbness, helplessness, shame, confusion...

Through it all, my cat waits every morning just outside the bathroom door for me to finish my shower. The children in my life are still sharing their adventures and discoveries with me. Yesterday, I saw a singing robin through the eyes of an overjoyed twenty month old who quickly made the word "robin-bird" his own. This is the same child who prefers to pick the naked dandelion stumps, the ones that have already been emptied of their seeds by the wind. To him, they are pocket filling treasures.

Today, I will spend my afternoon with a young four year old friend. He will ask me to play tickle monster and the "I love you game." The latter began one sunny afternoon when I was holding him in my arms and spinning him in the soft grass of his front yard. Feeling the magic of the moment, I looked at him and said, "Do you know how much I love you?" He nodded and held up his hand holding out his thumb and forefinger, stretching them about an inch apart. "Mmmmhmmm. This much!" he answered me with confidence. Shocked, I said "No!" and while smiling, I spread my arms as widely as I could, proclaiming "this much!" As he tumbled down onto the ground he grinned and laughed that deep from the belly laugh that I love. I adore that this has become one of his must-do activities when we are together.

That much I can do. I can make certain that the people in my life know that I love and appreciate them. My cat and my young friend know. Now, it is time to make sure that those who don't remind me to tell or show them are every bit as aware. I will start here, thank you for being a part of my world. The fact that you take the time to visit and read my words humbles and inspires me. Thank you!