Monday, July 26, 2010

I think I learned a lesson

I think I learned a life lesson from my daughter this morning. You see she has this habit of stretching, pushing, pulling not to mention "messing" with my status quo.

My daughter (19) and I (45) have been spending some time together this summer walking almost everyday. It has been great! However, in my world, it should be the 45 year old giving lessons to the 19 year old. Not the other way around.

So the kiddo decides this morning that we are going to take an alternate walking route AND we are going to stretch our usual 3-4 miles to 6 miles. I was skeptical about her plan from the very start.

Generally when we walk we make a straight shot down County Road 25. From the very beginning of the journey I can see my destination and I know approximately how long said exercise will take. I know where the dips in the road are, I know approximately where Evy (the black lab) will insist upon pooping, I am familiar with traffic speed and the habits of the motorists on this road. I know that on any given journey on this road we will be greeted by 4-5 dogs (4 of which do not care for Evy--or perhaps it is me...hmmmm).

This route is by no means on the scenic registry, but it has a nice little sampling of what creation has to offer. The usual yellow, greens and blues are present. I get to take in a few wind waved grain fields, a small lake, a swamp, a cat-tailed ditch, various wild flowers and trees. Unfortunately it is a busy road--smucked frogs, a flattened turtle or snake and various other road kill complete this course...

The route my daughter chose was in comparison "on the scenic registry" (not really, but we are going to pretend). This chosen path was beautiful. It was a wooded setting--the trees canopied the road. There were fewer cars and slower traffic. We met only two dogs--one was curiously friendly and the other own minded his own business. Absolutely no road kill to be found. The curvy, bendy, rising, falling beauty of this trail tried to seduce me--but I would have nothing of it. My attitude was horse pucky. I was complaintive, crabby, negative, get the picture. I could not force myself to lift my eyes off of the hot, black tar and take in the beauty where field, tree & flower met the sky.

"What was your problem?" I hear you say...I've thought long and hard and I am ashamed to say that this little adventure had a lot to say about I generally approach life.

I like answers. I like control. I like to set well defined and easily obtained goals. I like to know "why?"* "how come?" *"what for?" * "how long will?" * "when will we get there?" * "are we there yet?" * "how much will this cost me?" * "how much effort is involved?" * "will it be easy?"* "will it be hard?" * "does it hurt?" * AND "after I complete this journey can I have a peek at the next?"....((sigh))

My problem simply said was that I did not know my destination, I didn't know how long it would take, I was anxious to 'get it over with' and I could not see around or over the hills, curves and bends and anticipate, plan or scheme a short-cut. I had to walk beginning to end the entire course. And I had to trust that my daughter had not taken me on a journey that I did not have the stamina to complete. (Six miles is tough on an old woman).

I approach so much of life in the "get er done" mode that I lose the heaven built into everyday. I miss beauty, I miss fellowship, I miss the middle ground that I think is called "contentment".

I procrastinate horribly to avoid the "starts" and then rush frantically to find the "ends". Peace is fleeting. Chaos the norm.

So my dear daughter patiently answered my "how much further?" questions and kept reminding me of how good I would feel when we were done. At the time her cheery disposition only added to my grumbliness...But now, now I feel differently...and I am not grumbly any more...

I hope I get the chance to walk this road again and hopefully I will approach it differently... at least I hope to not poop on the path again...

1 comment:

  1. Love this. Love you. Love her. The end. :)

    Heather EO