When Everything Aligns

I'm driving to work, and I pull up beside a yellow school bus.  The children inside wave and giggle.  I motion back with an exaggerated wave.

I notice one cute little girl in the backseat.  Her ponytail bobs and her head tilts back as she laughs.  I look again.  It's my own daughter on her way to a field trip at the marsh.  She doesn't know that I can see her.  I watch her for a few seconds and then have to exit.  As I pull away from that school bus, something rises up in my heart.  It's the strangest and deepest kind of joy.

I can't explain it other than to say watching a group of laughing school children is good for the soul.

I'm so happy for the warmth and safety of a little yellow school bus that takes children to a marsh. I'm so happy for my daughter as she rides on that bus, laughing with all her friends. God bless that bus.  God bless that teacher.  God bless the whole elementary school, this whole great state of Pennsylvania, and the whole wide world for that matter.

For at least a few minutes, something aligns.  Everything, at least right here, is just as it should be.

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Journal:  Can you remember when everything felt "just right" for a moment?

My Encounter with a Turkey Vulture

My minivan nearly runs over a turkey vulture today.  A turkey vulture.  On my street!  I take a picture and watch this bold bird swoop from tree to tree.

Turkey Vulture in a Tree in the Neighborhood

 I learn that turkey vultures can smell a dead creature from miles away.

Turkey Vulture

These birds detect death by smelling the special gas released once something begins to decay. I pull over to the side of the road and approach this turkey vulture.  He's surprisingly calm, and I figure it's because turkey vultures have no natural predators; why should he fear me?   

I watch him feeding on roadkill.  Rarely will they kill their own food (that's good because what if he wanted to feast on me?) Instead, they seek out what's already dead and rotting and stinking.

I don't like this bird.  I don't like him at all.  He's not very attractive, and he can't even sing.  He just grunts and hisses. I also learn that turkey vultures cool off by urinating all over themselves.  And if I make him mad, he'll spew semi-digested meat into my eyes. Finally, if I would have happened to harm this bird (by running him over, which I nearly did), I would have to pay $15,000 dollars and go to prison for 6 months. 

I do not like this bird. 

Why would this bird appear in my lovely blog?  Apparently, whether I like this bird or not, he plays a vital role in the ecosystem.  He cleans up rotting things and prevents disease.  We need him.   

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Journal:  What thing don't I like that I might actually need? 

Confessions of a Type-A Mother

I have a serious problem.  I love productivity.  I really do.  I don't like to sit down during the day because I just love to get things accomplished.  I love schedules, lists, and organization.  I love doing things in advance.  I was the girl in the front row who had the essay ready a week before the due date.  I arrive 10 minutes early everywhere I go.  I'm thinking about my big plans until the very last minute before closing my eyes to sleep.

The problem is that I think everyone else likes to (or should) live like this.  

My oldest daughter is, let's just say, relaxed about her life.  She likes to create, dream, and just be.  She can sit and hold a cat for an hour and think about daisies.  Nothing feels urgent in her world.  This drives me absolutely crazy.

Lately, I've been a lunatic mother when it comes to her.  From the moment she arrives home from school, I have her life planned out:  music practice, homework, reading, exercise, Bible verses for church, cleaning her room.  Every minute is planned and productive, just the way I like it.

Just the way I like it.  Type A mothers might need to learn from my confession.  Not everyone likes to live like we do.  I'm seriously beginning to consider the notion that some people live differently.  They are patient, relaxed, and refuse to live under a sense of urgency.  Who are these strange creatures under my roof who feel no urgency? 

Everything is urgent to me. 

What would it look like to honor and embrace different personality types, especially within my own family?

She walks in from school, and I keep my mouth shut.  No orders, no plan, and no directing.  This is her life, not mine.  I begin my own writing work and live out my type-A urgent insanity privately.  In a parallel universe over there, I find my daughter has decided to play her flute and then put on an elaborate fashion show with her sister.  Then she sets up an imaginary school.  I'm pretty sure she's doing homework inside the imaginary school.  

She's just herself. And I'm myself.  I'm praying I learn how to celebrate her personality.  Any advice?

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Journal:  How can a mother let her children live their own lives?  Is it wrong to constantly urge children to do their homework and accomplish more and more each day?