Yesterday morning started with the normal frenzy of a young family household getting three kids ready for school and then a mom trying to decide which thing to do first, followed by a slew of other things. I let my three-year-old determine the first course of action. She wanted to go to the gym to see a friend; I knew I needed to go to the gym.
Ironically, I sat on the stationary bike reading in preparation for a class I’m leading today. The topic: HeartMath, compassion, patience, changing my concept of time, being fully present. My legs pedaled along, my eyes moved forward, and I tried to sit quietly, absorbing my reading. I appreciated the irony of my multi-tasking.
My three-year-old changed my course, again, as she decided to go home with a friend. Suddenly, my morning opened even more. Pottery? Writing? Sewing? What to do next on my own.
I had told a friend we would come play, but now I was alone. I called her anyway, and found her scurrying to clean before her mom showed up. But her toddler insisted upon being carried. I found myself volunteering to come help her clean for a bit; I’d still have time to go home and do something before my afternoon appointments.
At my friend’s house, rather than cleaning, I was asked to hold the toddler. He melted into my arms and chest and soon fell asleep. All I had to do was hold him. All I had to do was be calm and still. I was given time to sit, holding that precious reminder that children bring us just to be. My friend got to clean without an aching back, and I got time to be still, snuggling with her warm babe. I left not long before her mom arrived to a house mostly restored.
I didn’t have time to go back to my own home, but I did have time for coffee and a snack at another friend’s house. I arrived at my afternoon meetings peaceful and present.
Maybe I should let my youngest help me make decisions more often. Maybe I just need more time to sit.
Thanks be to the children.