September includes back-to-school activities for people around the country, with enthusiasm (and apprehension) usually high as students, parents, staff, and teachers begin a new year. Mine peaked this summer when my husband took me back where I started kindergarten in Springfield, Ohio. I was filled with a myriad of memories stepping on the grounds, exactly in the spot a school bus once dropped me off. Walking into the building brought back the child-long-forgotten in me. My recollection of people and activities flooded hallways and rooms as we peaked inside. Doug's job was to photograph the unforgettable and historic milestones from my past, while listening as I reminisced ~ and I barely stopped to breathe. In minutes, we covered my very first day at school to saying goodbye to a favorite second grade teacher when we moved. Sitting alone at a long table in the lunchroom brought tears. A quick picture of kids playing on the playground . . . and we were gone.
Those were precious moments. The lessons I've learned from life since early grade school are even more spectacular. Funny how the most interesting are seldom the most important. We struggle with looking back at the past too much, forgetting to savor the present, and hopelessly dreaming about tomorrow with no plan for action. "If we could see beyond today as God can see," is a song on my lips quite often. In reality, I just need to get out an old book He wrote and start reading.
Breakfast with a really special guy this morning...I do quite often. Sometime we sit and talk in my kitchen overlooking the gorgeous cul-de-sac. Other times we chat out back on the patio. Either way, it is one of the best ways to start a day.
On weekends, I awake to freshly brewed coffee and attention from my second favorite guy. He's fun to spend time with too. My husband is my best friend and soulmate but he asked years ago if I'll ever love him as much as Jesus. After pondering, I said, "No." Most days that is still true but every so often I wonder what life might be like if Doug didn't come home. I like kissing and dancing. My favorite thing to do is sit on my husband's lap. I'm just really glad I don't have to make a choice.
"Life is a story waiting to be read," I've always believed. Every day becomes an adventure, one way or another ~ with ordinary circumstances transforming themselves into unusual experiences by evening. Some events I journal in disbelief; others are written for future reflection. Whether or not they become positive memories or create ongoing stress depends on how I respond.
Today, for example, I woke up late . . . very late! Of all days to be a slacker. My husband took the day off so we could spend quality time together after my being gone all last week. He planned to golf early before the mercury climbed to 100 ~ giving me time to finish my essential tasks so we could get to meaningful and memorable moments together. I was brushing my teeth when he returned home. "Can you wait a few more minutes?" I asked sweetly. "Sure," he answered. An hour later my daughter called to see if I finally had this blog up. It's been a frustrating afternoon.
But my kindhearted husband is patiently waiting to go somewhere special with me and I want this story to end sucessfully. There will be much more to include and retell by bedtime. Tomorrow, no doubt, another story will begin.