kids

Fun Is Good

| Marie Griffith

I have a long list of “must dos”. A longer list of things I need to do. And a short list of fun things I really want to do. We all have these lists, whether on paper or in our heads.

The long lists take up most of my time. They include the everyday things I do at home or work. It means at work I figure contracts, reconcile GL accounts, take care of accounts payable, and analyze financial statements. At home I do laundry, have good conversations with my family, clean the refrigerator, cook dinner, or wash dishes.

The other items on the long lists are those that can wait but still need doing. Like clearing out the sun room and painting the walls. Getting quotes from contractors on more work we want done to the house. Cleaning out the attic and the barn. Trimming trees and more landscaping.

But what about that short list? Yours will be different than mine because what is fun to me may not be to you. But we all need our own list of fun things we want to do.

I want to fly somewhere with each of my kids and backpack on the Appalachian Trail this year. My husband and I want to see the Northern Lights and picnic in a vineyard. I want to paddle board and learn Spanish, do some freelance writing, and complete the Spartan Trifecta. These things don’t need to be done, and as author Mark Buchanan put it, the world isn’t changed by my doing them or not.

But I need to play. You need to play. Because we need a break from the ever growing “to do” list.

Because of the chores and responsibilities and deadlines, the short list tends to get shoved under the others. Disregarded as less important. Forgotten about.

If we’re not careful, adulthood can turn into one big obligation and we forget we need to have fun. We forget how to play.

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If you’ve neglected play for so long and don’t know what to do, start small. Play Go Fish with your kid. Dance in the living room. Fly a kite, jump on the trampoline or ENO in the park. Visit a theme park and ride all the roller coasters. Sign up for that cooking or dance class you’ve always wanted to take or join a book club.

I’m not going to tell you how you’ll benefit from playing. I want you to find out for yourself. Because the world may not be changed by your playing, but you probably will be.

Excuse me while I go jump rain puddles.

Dancing

13 Years Here

| Marie Griffith

The renovations on the inside of my childhood home are complete. The guys we hired to do the hard stuff have done a fantastic job and it’s beautiful.

Tomorrow we’ll begin to move our life from one place to another. I’ve already moved some of the small stuff. Boxes of old pictures, books, and wall hangings are there at the new house.

But the old house still holds most of our things. And memories. Lots of memories……13 years worth. It’s been a good place to us. Lots of good times have happened here. We imagehave the best neighbors in the world and the most beautiful country roads you’ve ever seen. The people here are hard working people. The kind that stop to talk to you when you’re walking on the country roads. They’ve heard we’re moving….so they stop and ask about it.

I’ll miss that. The community I’ve felt here. I’ll miss Mr. Billy and his wife, Brenda, stopping by in the fall and blowing the horn for me to come out of the house to see if I want to buy 25 lbs of sweet potatoes or some collard greens. We always visit awhile and I look at pictures of his sweet great grandchildren.

I’ll miss Mr. Jimmy. His 30 plus acres are right beside our place. He let the kids stomp and romp all over that land. They fished in his ponds, climbed on his hay bales, rode his horses, borrowed anything from his barn (as long as they put it back), and built forts there, too. They’ve long since outgrown all that but they will remember imageit forever.

I’ll miss our Christmases here. Our live tree took up almost the whole living room but it was okay because it was Christmas. And we barely had room to open the gifts when extra family was here.

I’ll miss the walks on my country road. The quiet and beauty. The cotton growing, the horses neighing, and the cows grazing.  The sound in the summer of the crickets and frogs and cicadas. The pecan trees and blackberry bushes.

We’ve grown in this place. Not just older, but better. Along with the good, there’ve been hard times here, too. We’ve laughed and cried here. We’ve been healed here and loved here.

It’s all been so good to us.

I’m so thankful for the years in our little home in the country.

In response to the Daily Post’s Neighbors

Listen

| Marie Griffith

We are months into The Live Like it Matters Challenge now and I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am. Remember the point is to make us more aware of our daily interactions with others. Are we kind? Do we smile at others or scowl instead? Do we say thank you? Are we helpful?

Another way to live like it matters is to listen. It seems so simple but with all kinds of distractions at our fingertips we don’t do it well.

I’ve been guilty of multi-tasking while trying to listen and it doesn’t work.

You’re not listening if you’re checking Instagram or Twitter while your 14 year old is asking you about your first car. If you’re watching Netflix while your friend is trying to tell you about her day at work, you aren’t listening. Quit watching Periscope while your sister is asking about your plans for Thanksgiving.

Nothing says “you matter” like giving someone your undivided attention. I mean, “phone out of sight, TV off, looking them straight in the eye like there’s no one else around” kind of attention. That’s how you listen. You look them in the eye and really hear what they’re saying.

Don’t do the fake nods and the occasional glances in their direction and the “yeahs” acknowledging what was said when you really have no idea what was said.  Quit pretending to listen.

Just listen.

Instead of checking my phone when I get home tonight I’m going to listen. I’ll listen as my husband and kids talk about their day, their friends, or a new song by their favorite artist. I’ll get to hear how my children interact with one another……sometimes lovingly. Sometimes not so much. I’ll learn what made them laugh today. Or what made them angry today. I’ll find out if my husband had a rough day at work or not.

Later I will go to my bedroom to wind down and one of them will come in and lie across the bed.

I’ll ask, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” is the usual reply.

Almost always he or she will start to share something. It may be trivial. But sometimes it’s not and it’s always important.

I’ll listen because I care deeply and I want them to know it.

“A good listener is not only popular everywhere, but after a while she knows something.” 

                                    Wilson Mizner

The Barn

Image | | Marie Griffith

This is a follow up to a photo I posted previously called Barn Door. I grew up there. Going in and out of that barn, up the stairs and into the loft with my sisters. We posed for Mom’s camera the same way my kids did for mine. But Daddy didn’t like us playing in the loft. He thought it was too dangerous.

This was not a typical barn. It wasn’t filled with horses or cows or any other animals except for the occasional stray cat that made its home there.

The barn housed all of Daddy’s tools. The chainsaw, drills, handsaws, the sling blade, hoes and rakes. His dad’s tools were there, too. In an old wooden tool box. Ladders and paint and his saw horses and old coffee cans filled to the brim with nuts and bolts and nails. Everything and anything he didn’t want in the house.

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Dad with my two oldest in the loft of the barn.

I followed him as he worked around the yard one Saturday afternoon but he stopped me before he opened the barn door.

“Do not come in the barn. There are wasps’ nests and I may stir them up. Stay outside.” Daddy said.

I waited a minute but I went in anyway. He didn’t realize I was right behind him when he moved an old fold-up bed out of his way. Within seconds, I had yellow jackets swarming around me. He picked me up and rushed me outside. He swiped several yellow jackets off my back and arms and carried me inside the house. I was stung seven times. I’m sure Daddy was angry with me but I don’t remember it. All I remember is him taking tobacco out of his cigarettes, balling it up, pressing it onto each sting, and covering my stings with bandages. It was supposed to take the pain of the sting away.

But nothing could take the sting of my embarrassment away. I was ashamed I hadn’t listened and sad I’d disappointed him.

From that day forward, I listened to Daddy because I knew he meant good for me. I listened. But I didn’t always obey. I wanted more than anything to please my parents but missed the mark a lot of times. I lied and sneaked out of the house. I smoked and drank and had guys over when I wasn’t supposed to. I went places I shouldn’t have gone and did things I shouldn’t have done. When I was caught my parents would sit us down and talk with us because there was usually an “us” when I got into trouble. Mostly the “us” was me and my little sister. Sometimes they talked angrily at us. Daddy raised his voice wondering why we would put ourselves in these foolish and sometimes dangerous predicaments. But even so, it was always done in love.

I never doubted that. Ever.

I realized pretty early into my troubled days that the fun of it wasn’t worth the hurt and disappointment I caused my parents. Because I loved them and I wanted to make them proud.

How did they do that?  How did they make me care about honoring them and making them proud?  I’m not sure.

But I remember the day I was stung by seven yellow jackets.

And I remember I could have avoided it if only I had listened to Daddy.

1-2 Listen, friends, to some fatherly advice;
    sit up and take notice so you’ll know how to live.
I’m giving you good counsel;
    don’t let it go in one ear and out the other.    Proverbs 4:1-2 (MSG)

Midnight

| Marie Griffith

Midnight.

That’s when I crawled into bed last night. The red numbers on my alarm clock glared at me, reminding me that it was way past my bedtime.img_4537

But my sleepy eyes couldn’t steal the smile off my face. And my drained body couldn’t take away the fullness of my heart.

I was very tired when I got home. It was a busy workday, then I led a ladies’ group for two hours. On the quiet drive home, I thought of the few things I needed to do before I went to bed. I decided they could wait.

My plan was to chat with my family, change into my pajamas, wash my face, brush my teeth, then go to bed.

My husband and youngest daughter followed me into the bedroom. They were still chatty. We sat there, talked about our day in more detail, laughed and yawned. My husband got his fill and went into the living room, but his spot on the bed was taken by my 18 year-old son. I was surprised he was home. I don’t see as much of him and his older sister. They’re always on the go…….working, hanging out with friends……just not home.

But he was home last night. He lay across the bed and listened to his little sister talk and talk. He stayed there, interjecting something every now and then. He asked me how group went and listened some more to his little sister talk and talk.

When she was through with all of her words and left the room, he shared what was on his mind. Deep stuff. Life stuff. So we talked. And I didn’t feel tired. And he felt better about some things.

He made his way to the kitchen when he realized he was hungry. I realized how tired I really was. So I changed into my pajamas, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I heard my oldest daughter come in the front door. It felt as if I hadn’t seen her in days. I went into the living room and sat on the love seat. She sat too and showed me some pictures on her phone. We had a short talk then she went into her bedroom.

She came back before I made it off the love seat. She started talking again. Sharing what she’s been thinking. Deep stuff. Life stuff. So we talked. And I felt really tired but it didn’t matter. We talked and we both felt better about some things.

I finally crawled into bed with a big smile and a full heart.  And I slept.

Because the red numbers on my alarm clock didn’t keep me from the essential things.

 

To Do

Quote | | Marie Griffith

My weekly “to do” list is as long as it was on Monday.  I’ve checked some items off but added others. I have ongoing projects at work and my plan to complete them hasn’t happened. The business letter I need to write is only half written.

At home the garage is still unpainted and the new garage door opener hasn’t been installed.  My closet is still a mess and some of the pretty plants I bought to put in my front flower garden are still in the pots I brought them home in.

I did other things.  Things that aren’t on the list.

I cooked homemade chicken noodle soup for my family and helped my oldest daughter with her Geography homework Monday night. I planned to be in bed early but had a nice conversation with my kids instead.

The next evening, my daughters and I did a 2 and 1/2 mile walk on the country roads around our home.  We talked with the neighbors when we returned.

I ran into a friend this week and visited with her.  Played in the yard with my youngest daughter and the dog and stayed up late one night talking with my husband.

And something I rarely do….I watched a favorite TV show.  It was splendid.

Sometimes our plans don’t happen when or how we want them to.  It’s frustrating.  This week I chose to be flexible instead of staying irritated about thwarted plans.  With three kids, full-time jobs, and all the other things we have going on…..I have to.

I will check those things off my “to do” list eventually.  I have more important things to do first.

What if the choices you thought were small, were actually the ones that mattered?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Satisfaction of a List.”

Today

| Marie Griffith

“There’s only one day at a time here, then it’s tonight and then tomorrow will be today again.”
― Bob Dylan

I have a lot to do, even more to think about. Like most, I’m juggling too much. Thursday evening after work, I was driving to the hospital to see Mom. I was thinking about what I had to do after I left the hospital. Pick up medicine, go to Sears to return an item, give Blake a check, turn in ad forms, look through Brady’s papers………..my thoughts were interrupted by a text message.  My son wanted to know if I was cooking dinner.  I hadn’t even thought about it.  I wondered if there was anything in the house to cook.

I suddenly felt overwhelmed with it all. I took a deep breath, asked the Lord to help me, and made myself stop thinking about the “to do” list that will never, ever go away. I thought about what Dad and I talked about earlier.

Today. Do what we can today.

He was overwhelmed too. With thoughts of all the tomorrows, all he had to do and all the “what ifs”.

At the hospital Mom told me what her doctor said to her. He reminded her that we have only today.  Be thankful for it and enjoy it. That helped Mom. And it helped me.

We live like we don’t know this. We think about what we have to do next and rush to it without fully engaging in what we’re doing now. This makes us unhappy, stressed and full of anxiety.

We’re not meant to live that way. I’m trying to simplify and learning to say no. Even so, there are times when “NO” isn’t an option.

When I have too much to do and too many thoughts I will remember that God is here, now.

He is there when I get to the next thing…….He has me. I will be present in each moment and do my best with it.

And be thankful that my family doesn’t mind eating chili dogs.

 

The minute I said, “I’m slipping, I’m falling.”
Your love, God, took hold and held me fast.
When I was upset and beside myself,
You calmed me down and cheered me up.

Psalms 94:18-19 (MSG)

Simplify

 

Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán from Pexels