Wisdom of Ferris Bueller

My computer is now in my living room as part of an Ikea inspired wall-length organizational unit to bring some function and simplicity to my life, like what the Swedish store sells for real cheap on glossy catalog pages. Don't get me wrong, I love Ikea and how walking around the "showroom" floor makes me feel like we're trespassing in some giant dollhouse created by an extremely design savvy child. The only thing the great home store can't sell in a great assembly required package is authenticity: the richness that can only develop over time into a distinctive patina. You can pay for "distressed" finish, but it simply cannot replace the real deal, exposed to the elements over decades, flaws and all. Yes you might get a splinter trying to run your fingers along a reconstructed barn wood picture frame, so hang it on the wall instead with pictures of your loved ones proudly displayed. (Just like the portraits I currently have hanging in a row down my hallway.) I know that life has become too busy when the pictures in my frames show images of children who are now more than a year older. Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

This sage wisdom from Ferris Bueller is not new advice. I will not waste time recommending how to savor the moments we're given or "stop and smell the roses." It does convict me that I need to take in and saturate myself with the everyday experiences that are so easily lost in the blur of months, seasons, and years. Now that our family is a foursome, those months seem to have expedited their passing even more.

So for my own sake, and that of anyone who cares to read these words, I will attempt to maintain short records of these memorable everydays.

Pensive Just for the Sake of It



Persimmon Creek June 2011

Feet numb from the chilly water, face warm from the midday sun, a cool breeze flutters by. I desperately attempted to freeze a memory I fully intended to easily recall at a later

....less tranquil time.

I could lie and say that every time I see this picture I am immediately transported back to the moment I was standing in that very spot.

I could wax poetic about the juxtaposition of serene backdrop and the effervescent half pint splashing about.

[insert overtly sappy musings here]

Now that's out of the way....

Truth be told, I can't ignore the droning hum of the AC down the hall as I peck away clumsily at the key board in our poorly lit guestroom/ home office/ craft space/ storage unit/ place to keep the liter box...and today's heat index was in the triple digits. Clues to the realities of everyday life far from the secluded creek.

This bucolic picture is merely teasing me as I sit here in front of the industrial glow of a computer screen.

How can one possibly return to what now feels like an unattainable state of relaxed placidity?

Find the sweet spot. Maybe even become unbalanced.

Become a better you, instead of just a poor copy of someone else. We each have been given true passion or genuine gifted talent for a handful of things.

Hone those passions,
let go of the rest,
never let a "job description" define who you are.

To do one thing well always means not doing so well on something else. Appropriate balance can't be defined by a schedule or a check-list. It's defined by that sweet spot where we're pursuing whatever helps us play out our role better, avoiding whatever sidetracks us or casues us to fail, and ignoring most of the rest. Standing before God, we won't be asked how balanced out life was. We'll be asked how faithfully we fullfilled our calling.

Spirituallity for the Rest of Us, Larry Osborne

Now I almost sense the delicate trickle of a secluded creek...

Failed Originality

It is better to fail at originality than suceed at imitation.
Herman Melville

As life becomes sated with rich memories and noteworthy experiences, priorities once deemed crucial start to decay into feeble limbs of pruned inconsequence.
Contentment, joy, and hope vigorously burst forth and bloom.

Self reflection peaks at an all time high during the anticlimactic days that follow the holiday rush each year. Too many edible indulgences, living out of a suitcase, extreme temperature changes, placating family tensions (for the half-pint: not enough naps) are paid for with a physcial and emotional labyrinth of fatigue. But it's all worth it...

Our days were spent traveling, planning, hosting, and rushing from one place to the next, but we were joined by family and friends. I lost count of the times I saw that look of magical wonder in the eyes of my daughter, right down to her fascination with a young cat named Petunia, or as she liked to say "Poo-tuna".

Has this become a sappy reflection about the lessons I've learned about my daughter during the holidays? You bet.

• She dances no matter where she is if she likes the music.
• She insists we "hold hands" even walking down our hallway from her bedroom.
• She must act out the "great big hug and a kiss from me to you" every time she sings the Barney song.
• She enthusiastically greets each family member/ friend as if she hasn't seen them in years, even if its been a few minutes.
• She is fascinated with all God's creatures, big or small, soft or slimy.

Contentment, joy, and hope vigorously burst forth and bloom.