But To Live January 20, 2015

Sometimes it happens for no good reason at all. Nothing in particular went wrong. The day itself can be completely average. As was the day before it. And yet something about the time passing seems slower moving than when I get stuck in the muddy snow-slush substance that accumulates in my backyard paradise as the formerly beautiful snow diamonds melts. (That also may have happened today.)

My conviction to live in the moment is in direct conflict with the words, yet I found myself agreeing when my dear forever mom said them today. “I can’t believe it’s only Tuesday,” she said to dad over dinner. For no good reason, the week does indeed seem to be dragging in a way even I have to admit. 

Upon further reflection, I don’t suppose it’s terrible to consider the possibility that time can occasionally drag. I don’t suppose it is actually that much different than pausing to realize how quickly time has been flying by. Time, and the living of it, has a mind of its own sometimes.

I think my problem is when either kind of time prompts a desire or longing for time to change somehow. For it to speed up or slow down. Either is a crime against the present, which (at least in my humble doggie opinion) is meant to be treasured. In a case like today, I felt mom’s words. I, too, couldn’t believe it’s only Tuesday. And, as a result, I found myself wishing it were Wednesday. Or Thursday. Because that means my favorite time of the week (the weekend, obviously) was closer.

Therein lies the problem. I was wishing time away instead of appreciating that this week it seems to have slowed down before our very eyes.

Sometimes it happens for no good reason at all. Or so I thought. Today I realized maybe when time slows down, it’s happening for a reason. Maybe it is to remind us to slow down. Maybe it is to remind us to cherish the moments, instead of wish them away. Maybe it is to remind us not just to be, but to live.

Advertisement

On Precious Moments April 12, 2014

I often wonder what it would be like if life had a remote control. If we could stop and pause and fast forward and rewind segments like I see my people do when something is particularly funny or if they need to leave the room for a few minutes. What happens when something is particularly funny in life? There’s not really a way to duplicate it again because you can’t rewind. And when times get rough? You can’t fast forward.

But I do think we have within us the capability to pause the present from time to time. To stop and appreciate a precious moment (or moments) in time that brings life into focus. I’ve heard mom say this is what the better part of the first three months of Carter’s life were like for her. In a way, she says she felt like she was in a time warp. Like somehow the world outside didn’t exist and it was only our little family enjoying each other in those (albeit) trying times.

I think you emerge from something like that – from a time warp, or pause in the rat race of life – a completely different person. Whether you pause for a second or for three months doesn’t matter. You see things differently. Feel things differently. Live differently.

Something I’ve found observing my little family since my beloved little person came home is that no one wants to miss anything. And (while at times) this is not always the best attribute, I do feel that it has within it a level of context that should not be misunderstood. Every moment is precious.

Baby Carter rolled over a bunch today. It didn’t seem like that big a deal to me, as I roll over all the time. But my people stopped cold – paused – and relished in what is apparently some sort of developmental milestone in a little person’s life. It was such a little thing that meant so much.

It made me think about the little moments that happen in a person’s life that make a difference. Not just for the person who decides to hit the pause button, but for whoever else happens to be around when it happens. It took me back to that fateful day when the snow fell from heaven and mom and I went outside and I didn’t know what came first – her laughter or my wagging tail.

That’s when I realized we actually have the only remote control button we really need. We have within ourselves the ability to pause to be thankful for the present that is the present. Who needs rewind and fast forward when you have the present?

Living in A Moment January 11, 2014

I’m not complaining. I want to be clear about that. But I’m not going to lie. While I am overwhelmed with joy for the major life change my people have embarked upon, it kind of frightens me a little. All right, I’ll be honest. It frightens me a lot.

I knew it would happen eventually, but I didn’t expect it to happen this fast. Mom and dad have thrown caution to the wind. Forget the baby books. Put aside the message boards. Just as I knew would happen, Carter is writing a book of his own. And I can’t say my people seem to happy with the outcome.

When mom was pregnant, dad used to joke that he wished she could give birth to a toddler. Though it would be physically impossible, it seemed appealing then to be able to fast forward through the “tough” newborn stuff and get right to the talking, walking trouble that comes with little people who are about two people years old. That way at least they can tell us what they need, he said.

Meanwhile, any and every caring friend and family member concurs. Much of the advice and suggestions align with each other, but one has stood out to me. This too shall pass, but cherish these moments. He will only be little like this for a short time. They grow up so fast.

If dogs could talk I would echo these words. It hasn’t been easy, but as American hockey coach Herb Brooks suggested moments of challenge represent opportunities for success. “Great moments are born from great opportunities,” he said. Because let’s face it. Fast forward is no way to live.