Monday, February 12th, 2007


I sat today, as I do most days, at my dining room table (which was “daylighting” as a rather large school desk) homeschooling my children and hoping to get through most of what needed to be done before lunch. Mind you, it’s Monday. No one wants to do school on a Monday, not even me. Yet here I was, plugging away as usual. Pretty boring, I know. My mind was on other things, which of course made it all the more harder.

“Mom…did I read that right?” asked my 7 year old for the third time.

“Oh…wait. I’m not sure, could you read it again?”

Big sigh from her, some rolling of the eyes, but she goes on to read the same passage again for the fourth time. By this time, of course, she’s reading it perfectly (who wouldn’t after 4 times?), and I have her go on to the next sentence. My thoughts drift off again, as they have been doing all morning….don’t think that the 7 year old was the only one plagued by a daydreaming instructor. Good thing they can’t give detentions.

I get out of the clouds long enough to notice that she’s having some trouble with a word. Alright, it’s time for Mom to buckle down. I ask what the sounds are, have her sound it out, and then have her read the word. Still no luck. She’s getting discouraged, and I’m getting antsy (blast Monday…it should be stricken from the calendar). Finally, I notice that the book is more in front of me than it is in front of her, so I take the book and turn it around so she can actually see it. She looks up at me and says “But how will YOU see it now?”. “Don’t worry,” I reply, “I can read upside down.”

Her eyes grow huge as she just stares at me for a minute or so. “You CAN?” she asks with amazement. I just smile and say “Of course I can.” Her eyes grow even larger, if that’s possible, and she says “Wow! You’re AWESOME!”

Of course I start to laugh, which gets her giggling, and then we finish the rest of her story. It’s funny how such a little thing can bring on such a huge amount of adoring amazement, and how much we take for granted. To my 7 year old, the whole concept of reading upside down is a feat only the most awesome can perform. I’m pretty sure, though, that I shouldn’t quit my day job and take that awe-inspiring act on the road. But far be it from me to tell my 7 year old daughter that….after all, in her eyes, that small action was enough to warrant her to tell me that I am AWESOME. That right there is pretty darn awesome.

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If you look out of the windows from my upstairs bathroom, you can see a fairly large field across the road from the house. When we moved in this past Fall, the field was still a beautiful green and seemed to call out to me to come run through it…to feel the cool grass upon my bare feet, and the soft breeze in my hair. I would have too, but of course time didn’t allow.

Now, since it is the middle of winter, the field is a frozen, barren desert…lonesome and desolate. There is no soft breeze to call out enticingly to me, only frigid winds that whip across the landscape with amazing brutality, occasionally stirring the snow up into a chaotic flurry of snow and wind. Such a contrast from the verdant scene just a few short months ago, and hardly something I’d want to lose myself in.

As I looked out upon this winter scene just recently, I realized that this field and I had much in common. There have been times, many in fact, where my soul resembled that fragrant landscape I saw this past Fall. There was peace, tranquility and happiness all around. Other times however…more times than I would like to admit… it has resembled the desolate terrain that permeates the view outside my window. Cold, dark and lonesome, with the occasional chaotic squall to throw everything into pandemonium. It is this “field” I wish most to avoid, but end up having to endure time and time again. My only consolation is that soon…very soon…Spring will come again to melt the frost from the inner most corners of my heart. And it is then that I will run through the green, fragrant grasses, seeking out that which is calling me in the soft breeze.