watermelon moon

a few nights ago, i got to imagine. i got to imagine as i looked up at the night sky, at the sliver of a moon hanging there precariously, residing over the darkness. i got to imagine with a three year old all the things that sliver of a moon could be. could it be a smile? could it be a watermelon? or an apple slice? i talked with this preschooler about the moon as if there were nothing more important in the world to be talking about. it makes me think of the story "the little prince."

"grown-ups like numbers. when you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. they never ask: 'what does his voice sound like?' 'what games does he like best?' 'does he collect butterflies?' they ask: 'how old is he?' 'how many brothers does he have?' 'how much does he weigh?' 'how much money does his father make?' only then do they think they know him." (the little prince, antoine de saint-exupery, p. 10)

it seems lately that the most beautiful, the most profound moments in my life revolve around children. here i was marveling at the moon with a child, marveling at how uniquely he sees the world. and it was nothing extraordinary to him, he was just seeing the world as only a child can. and i was honored to be invited in to that world. daily i am amazed by children. my breath is stolen as i watch a child take his first steps and soon learn to run. i am humbled as i get to watch a child begin to understand and explore the world around her. and i am honored to be allowed in to those most precious of moments.

napland

joy of all joys. today i discovered the most beautiful thing: a nap room at work. i didn't know until today that such wonderful things actually exist. let me explain. in the building i work in there is a room designated for napping. it is furnished with a comfy cot-type bed, lamp, chair, shelf full of fresh sheets, and a trusty lock. how have i worked here for almost 2 months and only now found out about this?! this magical room is the best kept secret around. from now on, i am certain my lunch breaks will be better than ever.

Monday Morning

Dear Monday Morning, I have fought with you, welcomed you, and at times slept through you. You are always faithful to arrive about a day early. The weekend passes, refreshing and full of adventures but often lacking in productivity and then you come along and remind me what I failed to do over the weekend. Overwhelmed, I roll out of bed to make coffee and soon enough I have so many thoughts and to-do lists flying around in my head that if I don't let them out, I think I might explode. And although I often dread your arrival, you never cease to remind me of the beauty of a fresh start and picking up where I left off. Today picking up where I left off means sorting through loan paperwork and trying to start my taxes and sending emails I neglected over the weekend. But, Monday Morning, you offer me grace; a few hours before my busy week actually begins, a buffer zone if you will. I'm sorry I don't often welcome you with open arms, for another week to live and breathe is a gift indeed. And you are the bringer of that gift.

Happy Thoughts

I think it is important to recognize what is good in everyday life. Those things that save me and take my breath away and make life worth living. Here are some things just today that have done just that:

1. Looking out at the rain through a coffee shop window, steaming americano in hand.
2. Seeing my art students sell their work and be reminded of the beauty they create.
3. Uplifting conversations over a dinner of wine, cheese, naan, and hummus.
4. Dreaming of changing the world with water, wine, and baked goods.
5. Watching the Lion King and singing along (of course!)

Magical Watch

So, being a consistent blogger maybe isn't my forte. Not yet at least. As it is, blogging is an intentional choice to reflect openly on the life I am living and what I see in that life. Oftentimes, reflecting is exhausting and at the end of the day, it is the last thing I want to do. And yet, here I am at 10:30 pm after a long day at work, choosing to stop for a moment and write.

On the bus home, a little boy got on with his grandmother. He was about four years old and was wearing a hat with Mario on it. He was your classic talkative child. Just a little bit before they got off the bus, he turns to his grandmother and tells her about this great idea he has had about a watch that would "disappear them home" by the touch of a button. Right around bedtime, he could press this button and it would "disappear them home" and then they wouldn't have to ride the bus. Brilliant.

I love the dreams and ideas of children. Kids are unstoppable because they have not lived long enough to have been told that they can't do something or that something is impossible. I think this is the quality I love most in children. And I wish adults allowed ourselves to live this way: as if nothing could stop us, as if anything is possible. I can only imagine what our world could be if our childhood dreams had never been shot down. If we had never seen hurt and failure. If we had never learned the words "I can't".

I want to live my life like the boy on the bus who wants to invent this magical watch. I mean, what could it hurt? Children are the most carefree, joyful beings I have encountered. They truly believe anything is possible. We could all stand to be a little (or a lot) more like them.

Cupcakes and Curry

Just the other night I had the privilege of spending an evening with two incredibly beautiful and fabulous women that I am so happy to call friends. Our evening began at Jai Thai where we enjoyed a meal of curry, rice, and veggies around a low table complete with cushions and a beautiful view out the window. We talked about life in a candid and completely raw and honest way. Family, future plans, futures with no plans, the craziness of being a young twenty-something, discouragement, tough decisions, the beauty of small moments. These sorts of conversations are glimmers of hope. They remind me that I am not alone. They whisper to me that my life is worth something, that even when I feel lost someone cares enough to tell me that they see me where I'm at. Feeling so content with good food and even better friends, I was asked questions that I knew I could respond to in a completely honest, vulnerable way. It is moments like these that make life worth living. Moments where I can say things I didn't even know I was thinking. Moments that make a hard day dissolve into the realization that there is more to life than what that day was about.

And then we paid our bill, put our shoes back on, and walked out into the cold. We ended up at Cupcake Royale where we bought more cupcakes than we needed and drank Americanos that the barista gave to us for free. It may sound ridiculous, but that barista has no idea how he impacted us (and me in particular) and infused our night with a little extra joy. An extra cupcake, a free drink. That's all it takes sometimes. How freeing. We can all do things like this daily with just the smallest bit of intentionality. Just take a moment to notice those around you. Pay for someone's coffee, take cookies to work, hold the door open for someone, speak an intentionally kind word, share a smile. You really never know when you have given someone exactly what they needed to change their day from lonely to hopeful. It's the little things in life that make it exciting and special and hopeful. Little things like curry and cupcakes and good friends.