School Year Hopes
This summer I spent a lot of time loving my children “as is.” No comparisons to their peers; no thoughts of what skills they need to have mastered by a certain date; no worries for problems they may never encounter—just loving them right where they are now, today.
But here we are, the second day of school, and I can already feel the pressure mounting—pressure to prepare for tomorrow, next month, next year, and so on.
Please don’t get me wrong; I know it’s important for children to be prepared for tomorrow’s spelling test, next week’s music recital, next month’s big game, and next year’s grade level assessment. These things matter—they do. But I am guilty of letting these future events matter more than what really matters now.
Today. Today really matters.
Today is all we know for sure that we really have.
My greatest hope for this school year is to remember how important … and how promising … today is.
Tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year all have pressures attached to them. Trying to prepare for things unknown and lofty goals can be downright overwhelming and daunting.
But today is different.
Today is doable. It’s manageable. It’s standing right in front of us requiring no plan whatsoever, just waiting to be grasped. It’s exactly why people often suggest taking one day at a time.
But in this fast-paced, task-driven, achievement-oriented world, it’s easy to forget that lovely little notion: One day at a time.
So I’ve been thinking. What might the school year look like if I try to focus a little less on tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year and focus a little more on today?
I don’t know, but I am going to try. So of course, I’m starting today with a few small efforts. And whether I do just one of them, three of them, or most of them, I can’t help but believe such efforts have the potential to bring a little more peace, a little more joy, a little more love, and a little less pressure to my family’s life today.
So here they are, my school year hopes for my children today …
Today I hope to take a few extra seconds to kiss the top of your head before you go.
Today I hope to stand aside and let you do it yourself … even if it takes a little longer … even if it’s messier … even if it’s not perfect.
Today I hope to say, “I’m sorry,” and “I love you” because they are life changing, comforting, and healing words.
Today I hope to laugh more than I sigh with exasperated breaths.
Today I hope to view missed shots and off-key notes as brave attempts at living rather than failures to succeed.
Today I hope to focus less on your faults and more on your freckles and sense of humor because they light up your face.
Today I hope to notice the color of your eyes when you speak to me.
Today I hope to listen to your words without judgment and impatience.
Today I hope to extend grace for accidental spills and other kid mishaps.
Today I hope to help you as you clean up that spill and tell you about the time I dropped an entire bag of flour on the kitchen floor. Maybe we’ll even laugh about it.
Today I hope to give you a little extra time to walk along the edge of the curb, do your own hair, and listen to your knock-knock joke.
Today I hope to catch a glimpse of you that suddenly reminds me how much of an extraordinary miracle you are.
Today I hope to remember you are more than your achievements, more that your academic performance, and more than your behavior.
Today I hope you see my eyes light up, not because of something you do, but simply because of who you are.
Today I hope you go to bed knowing life is better because of you.
Today I hope you fall asleep feeling loved right now, today, just as you are.
Today—that’s where it’s at, my friends.
Today is all we really have for sure.
So let today be a day we can look back on, whether in tragedy or joy, and say today was not perfect, but it was memorable. Why? Because I encouraged. I smiled. I listened. I apologized. I waited. I cared. I tried. But above all, I loved … oh how I loved … and my child felt it from the top of her head to the depths of her soul.
And when I wake up tomorrow and feel the pressure of future events, I will remember I am simply going to do what I can today. Today is doable. It’s manageable. It’s standing right in front of me requiring no plan whatsoever. Today is just waiting to be grasped.
Today’s
post was written in honor of Kathy Hynds, an extraordinary woman that
my family unexpectedly had to say good-bye to on August 6th. Kathy loved
her family through actions and words; we felt it then and we still feel
it now.
***************************
Please feel free to leave your own Hopes for Today in the comment section below. Although I am not always able to respond to every comment, I cherish every message. Last week, I heard from two individuals who said they are not parents, but they read my blog to discover what they need to offer themselves each day to thrive. This gave me such joy because I believe that nurturing ourselves is vital to nurturing those we love. Thank you to those who read in silence and to those who reach out to me and share your stories. I am grateful for your companionship on this journey to let go of distraction and grasp what really matters, my friends of The Hands Free Revolution.
*In the picture below, my younger daughter holds a beautiful print made by a friend. It seemed so fitting with today’s post, I thought I would share.
Today is the childhood our kids will remember.
No comments:
Post a Comment