We have forgotten how to be kids, huh?

Wouldn’t it be great

if there was a Charter School that

all adults

were mandated to attend

O  F  T  E  N

to learn how to be a kid again

or merely stay a child

or to dare be a child.          .          .

Kids would be teachers

and we’d all major in

R E C E S S

We’d learn their math
(That 1 + 1 = way more than two)

we’d learn their language

we’d learn their dream power

we’d learn their art techniques

we’d sing their kind of music

we’d have lunch time of ice-cream and cotton candy for a day

we’d major in mud puddle jumping

 J  U  S  T        B  E  C  A  U  S  E

 like Miss Emma

my colleague, Rachel’s daughter

who found pure joy

not by walking the zoo and seeing all of the animals

but finding a puddle shortly after a rain storm

and being ALLOWED by mom

to jump away happily.          .          .

ahhhhh.            .            .

to jump untethered in a mud puddle

or to go fishing in it and expect so much to catch fish

so much so

that you actually bring the tartar sauce along.        .        .

Pablo Picasso was right, wasn’t he:

“EVERYTHING  YOU  CAN  IMAGINE  IS  REAL; EVERY  CHILD  IS  AN  ARTIST, THE  PROBLEM  IS  HOW  TO  REMAIN  AN  ARTIST  ONCE  HE  GROWS  UP.”

This past weekend I became a child again.       .       .

but it was even more momentarily

than my several firsts go throughs.          .         .

We visited our daughter Zoe, our son-in-law Mark and our

granddaughter, Evey .        .        .

.          .          .literally moments before we were leaving

Eve forget to hold on to a coffee table and took

6-8 unassisted steps

HER  FIRSTS

and made us feel like we were taking our

First few steps.          .          .

my 62 year old heart

beat excitedly younger.          .          .

Some 12 hours later

a large part of our family gathered together

to celebrate my dad’s Birthday

We sang  HAPPY BIRTHDAY

ate cake, cupcakes, Birthday potluck foods

and celebrated that

L          I          F          E

is never made up from how many Candles are found on a Cake

so   much   as

M            O            M            E            N            T            S

.            .            .m   o   m   e   n   t   s

that aren’t defined by any age

so much as the endless child inside of us

desperately fighting to simply remain

a     c  h  i  l  d

reaching for a hand to hold

a dream to imagine

a song to sing

a  jingle  to  dance

a food to eat

a picture to create

and yes.          .          .

a puddle to jump into

again and again and again and.         .          .

Just in time to jump into a pile of leaves that begs never to be left alone

Life  is  filled  with

F     I     R     S     T           S     T     E     P     S

and D A N C I N G

our  A-B-C’ S

like TOMORROW

and YESTERDAY

is our forever

T   O   D   A  Y

and  that  our  best  creations 

are very next ones.          .          .

Now, that’s worth singing

H A P P Y     B I R T H D AY

with the loud refrain of

O N E     M O R E     T I M E 

]]> http://thecaringcatalyst.com/the-child-of-you/feed/ 0 2501 http://thecaringcatalyst.com/refrained/ http://thecaringcatalyst.com/refrained/#comments Fri, 28 Nov 2014 12:00:49 +0000 http://thecaringcatalyst.com/?p=945

Come, have a seat with me.

W H E W. . .

we made it.

It’s OVER

and Beginning, isn’t it?

T H A N K S G I V I N G

Sometimes the best thing that can be said of it is:

WE SURVIVED IT.

We survived food–lots of it.

We survived family–lots of them.

We survived football–lots of it.

We survived early BLACK FRIDAY stampedes–lots of them.

WE SURVIVED the THANKSGIVING-TUDE

. . .barely.

There are the 3 6 4 other days we have to contend with us being reminded
why
how
that
we are a Thankful people.

So. . .

as you put the Feast coma behind you

as you begin that not-so-long journey deeper into Happy Holiday time,

How about a little REFRAINING?

No, not that kind of refraining from Something, but the Refrain of that Song that just won’t leave your mind now that you’ve heard a huge dose of it.

A simple Refrain of:

STILL THANKFUL.

Join me:

That we’ve yet to live a day where the Sun comes up and goes down. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Hands to hold and be Held. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Prayers answered and unanswered. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Hearts that beat and enhances the beating of other hearts. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Songs not yet written, still being Sung. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For bodies that break and heal. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For minds that don’t know everything but capable of learning anything. . .

STILL ThANKFUL

For pockets that aren’t always full but stomachs that mostly are. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For houses that aren’t paid for, but shelter anyway. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For jobs that might not always be fruitful, but pay the bills. . .

For clothes not always in style, but offering cover, comfort and warmth. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For all that is and isn’t, was and wasn’t. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For____________________________________________________. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

I call it my THANKSGIVING CHAIR. I don’t sit in it as often as I should–especially when I need to the most: WHEN I’M LEAST THANKFUL.

But. . .more and more over these past few weeks I have made my way to THAT place a little more often.

Do you have a THANKSGIVING CHAIR?

Is there a P L A C E

–In Good and Bad–

where you just go, just go and sit…

Just sit and experience, THANK YOU?

In many different ways, in many different places, with many different people,

we celebrated Thanksgiving, YESTERDAY.

For all that now remains. . .continues. . .begins. . .may the Refrain be constant:

STILL THANKFUL

Come. . .have a seat with me.