Where were you on 9/11/01?
Allergy season must have started early this year. Or maybe that’s not the real reason behind all of the red-eyed parents that I’ve seen recently. Yes, the red eyes are the symptom of a changing season…just a season of life, not the weather.
It’s that time of year again. A new school year has started. And with the advent of another academic year comes fear, anxiety, uncertainty, and nerves. Especially for parents!
Recently, I had the completely awe-inspiring experience of watching a baby sea turtle emerge from the nest and make the long trek across the sand to the ocean. The temptation was to pick the miniature turtle up and help him on his way. But I knew that would likely be harmful to the baby turtle. He would gain strength for his adventures at sea by the work required to cross the sand.
Remember this old saying? The implication is that the shoemaker’s children often go unshod. And sadly, the truth of this adage applies across a broad spectrum. It happens with “PK’s” (Pastors' Kids),“MK’s” (Missionaries' Kids), and even “BK’s” (Builders’ Kids). A parent might dedicate their life to a particular calling, but neglect their own families in the same exact area.
But sometimes, gloriously, the shoemaker’s children have beautiful, handcrafted shoes. And when that happens, it should be celebrated!
Have you ever wondered if your life has really mattered? Whether you’ve made a difference with your years?
The milestones in our lives often cause those questions to bubble to the surface. Perhaps it’s a birthday that ends in a zero, retirement from a long-held career, moving to a new city, or something even more devastating like a diagnosis of cancer or ALS. But down deep, all of us have moments of wondering about the impact of our lives.
Most people agree with the value of writing affirming, encouraging letters to loved ones. Yet most of us don’t ever get around to actually writing the letters.
More directly, have YOU written letters to those who matter most?
If not, why not?
Is it that you don’t know where to begin or what to say?
Yes, that’s an obstacle to some, but if you’re reading this blog, then you undoubtedly know about a workbook that simplifies the process.
It was one of those flights. Every single seat was filled. Fortunately, I had snagged an aisle seat. At least I thought I was fortunate. Then, the kicking started on the back of my seat.
Immediately, I assumed that the crying child in the row behind me was the source of the kicking. I tried looking over my shoulder, hoping that my “hairy eyeball” would effectively communicate my cease-and-desist message.
My daughter and I were on a short trip and saw a homeless man on the side of the road. She started telling me about her recent experience with Mickey that had touched her profoundly. Later, she shared what she had written about the experience, and I asked it I could share it with you.
Written by Anne Noland
All I did was give him 45 seconds. But they were the most impactful 45 seconds I’ve had in a long time.
“My name’s Mickey,” he said, with a mouth full of sunflower seeds. “Gosh, I’m sorry about the seeds. I’m so embarrassed”
What a week. Do you feel burdened by an invisible blanket of grief because of the recent horrors in Orlando? I certainly do.
A talented young singer is killed by an obsessed fan.
49 people are massacred by a radical, Islamic terrorist. Another 50 more are injured by the same gunman.