Road
Wide open
Vast
Dirt
Clinging to the edges
Touching the horizon
Road
Beyond
Leading
Inviting
Move forward
Past what you see
Road
Explore
Travel
Trust
Instincts take over
Directions within
Photography, writing and more
Tag
Road
Wide open
Vast
Dirt
Clinging to the edges
Touching the horizon
Road
Beyond
Leading
Inviting
Move forward
Past what you see
Road
Explore
Travel
Trust
Instincts take over
Directions within
Kids can teach you lots of things. Important things like patience, the art of distraction and how not to cuss in front of others. But mostly they are grand teachers in the art of simplicity – pure joy, innocence and freedom.
I was reminded of this the other day when my son and three neighbor kids made a tree-house in our back yard.
On a sunny but cool breezy Sunday afternoon, the building crew was suddenly inspired to transform a small but resilient oak tree into their secret hideout. In preparation for the grand backyard adventure, my son had trekked in and out of the house no less than six times.
The sliding screen door scraped open and closed repetitively with each single task. One board. Another board (telling me he had an idea). The hammer. Another hammer (noting he had recruited some friends to help). Nails. More nails (explaining that the first box of nails had been dumped in a prickly bush).
“Please be safe!” I screamed.
OK, I admit my supervision was scant at best. By then, I only had enough energy to pop my head up off the couch momentarily to shout out that command, convincing myself that my son would at least have the better judgment not to hammer a thumb or nail a toe … especially not one of the neighbor’s kids.
I also mistakenly assumed that it would only take him five minutes to figure out that the tree was not fit for their grandiose vision let alone one single board. But where I saw the limitations, the kids saw only the possibilities.
I was rendered to the horizontal position after a week full of to-do’s, tasks, errands, expectations, obligations, a school field trip, work deadlines and a case of the shingles thrown in for good measure. Lying there hoping I didn’t hear a scream (though the silence was nearly as bad); I knew I needed a better plan. Little did I know that I’d get one handed to me the next day on a tattered piece of lined paper.
I dozed off and sixty glorious minutes later I was stunned awake by the mom radar that internally signals too long had passed before a screech, squeal, complaint – or request for a snack.
I jumped off the couch and in one giant leap was peering out at the most wondrous contraction shoved into the junior sized oak tree. Boards, colored with magic markers, shoved in mismatched places, and tattered ropes tied to small, errant branches.
They were still entranced in their imaginations, assembled into a highly organized team of pint-sized builders concentrating on their tasks. My son saw me and shouted, “Mom, doesn’t this look awesome!?”
Their creativity gave me a moment of pure joy. Their satisfaction blew a gust of fresh air across my heart that sang of innocence, childhood, laughter and adventure.
The next morning over breakfast, as my son and I gazed out at the backyard contraption they proudly called a “tree house”, he showed me the instructions they agreed to follow. The tattered, lined piece of paper, scrawled in pencil, listed these fourteen steps:
How To Build A Tree House
Hmm, their plan sure seemed better than mine. It was simple and meaningful. I couldn’t ignore the wisdom. Did I stop long enough to make sure things stay in place (like my sanity, my balance)? When was the last time I paused to make sure I liked what I was building?
And last but certainly not least, step “four-teen”- enjoy our tree house. Wow, this hit close to home. Did I take the time to enjoy something once it was done, before quickly moving on to the next task or project?
Looks like I’ll need to grab a hammer and nails, perhaps a few magic markers … even if it takes me a few trips in and out of the house to get it right.
Once upon a Time
Once upon a Time I climbed In and out From toddler to teenager Once upon a Time I leaped Up and over From graduation to independence Once upon a Time I learned Down and under From paycheck to purpose Once upon a Time I loved Within and around From wife to mom Once upon a Time I grew By and bye From expectations to gratitude Once upon a Time I listened Through and above From me to thee
A take on Cinderella that’s inspired by talent and tenacity, not beauty or a prince.
Coming soon! Here’s a sneak peek …
A take on Cinderella that’s inspired by talent and tenacity not beauty and a prince.
Once upon a time in the small town of Riverview, there lived a high school junior named Ella. She attended Overland High School, where her life was a balancing act between school, work, and a difficult home situation. Since her father passed away, Ella lived with her stepmother, Mrs. Grimsley, and her two spoiled stepsisters, Ashley and Brianna. They never missed an opportunity to remind her that she didn’t belong, insisting she needed to earn her keep.
Despite her hardships, Ella was smart and kind-hearted. She excelled in her classes and always dreamed of getting into a good college to start her own life by her own rules. But that wasn’t easy when her stepmother made her life so difficult.
In addition to the mountain of chores Mrs. Grimsley gave her, Ella worked part-time helping clean the school after hours to make ends meet. The extra money helped her family, even if Mrs. Grimsley barely acknowledged it.
Every night after finishing her schoolwork and her shift cleaning classrooms, Ella would sneak into the smaller gym to shoot hoops with an old scuffed basketball she found under the bleachers, practicing alone in her worn-out tennis shoe with frayed laces.
Ella loved basketball. She dreamed of playing point guard, being crowned a champion, and earning a college scholarship, and being crowned a champion! But despite a talent and passion for the game, she wasn’t on Overland’s basketball team – not because she lacked skill but because her stepmother wouldn’t even allow her to try out.
But despite a talent and passion for the game, she wasn’t on Overland’s basketball team – not because she lacked skill but because her stepmother wouldn’t even allow her to try out.
What hurt Ella most was that Ashley and Brianna were both starting players on Overland girls’ basketball team. “Basketball is only for athletes with potential” Mrs. Grimsley would say, “not someone like you.”
The only person who ever saw her play was Mr. Jenkins, the kind-hearted school janitor who was often finishing up his rounds at the same time. Mr. Jenkins, a kind, older man who had worked at the school for years, was a long-forgotten high school basketball star himself and saw Ella’s potential.
“You’ve got something special, kid,” Mr. Jenkins would say, leaning on his mop as he watched her sink another shot from the three-point line. “You should be on that team,” he told her one night as she practiced alone.
Ella sighed, wiping sweat from her brow, and carefully tucked the tattered basketball back into its hiding place. “My stepmother would never allow it. She only cares about Ashley and Brianna. They’re the stars. I’m just the girl who cleans up after them. Besides, we can’t afford new shoes. I need this job to help out at home.”
Mr. Jenkins shook his head. “Talent like yours doesn’t stay hidden forever.”
A hundred pairs of shoes are never enough. One pair is always missing. The ultimate dream: a shoe shop with a restaurant
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