|A tiny taste of heaven.|
Do you have a secret place?
A spot you unknowingly find your way to when you need a rest or need to take a deep breath.
I have several secret spots that refuel me, that calm me, that bring it all back to the real stuff that matters.
When the world feels too crazy, I make my way to one of these places and
and breathe...big, long, deep oxygen-rich breaths.
It's not so serious.
No to-do list is that important.
It's all going to get done anyway...
who cares if it's not all done at the exact perfect time in the exact perfect way.
This, this right here -- is way more important.
And that's how I was feeling last Saturday.
I had chores to complete.
Work to finish.
Emails to return.
And a presentation to get done.
None of it mattered.
I woke up on Saturday and decided to share my secret place.
Caroline was ready.
So I zoomed out of my pj's (which really isn't-Saturday-morning-like-me), showered and got ready and whispered to Caroline...
"I'm taking you someplace special this morning, just me and you. Will you get dressed?"
She needed no prompting...she got herself together in a flash.
We completed a tiny subset of the regular Saturday stuff that must get done and headed out...on bikes.
[Now I must add here that I've been wrestling with the constant intrusion of my cell phone. I've been feeling like it's been owning me rather than the other way around. And then a tiny little seed sprouted in my mind...I know it shouldn't be too crazy of a thought...but sadly, it was for me...I decided to make my cell phone optional. I was going to make Saturday (and maybe even Sunday if I got good at it!) my cell-phone-free day. And since that little thought just kept going around and around in my head, this very Saturday seemed like the day to try. So, I told John that I was going to be out of touch for a few hours, left my cell phone on the counter and away we went.]
It was the weirdest sensation!
I felt naked and free and vulnerable and information-less and
I could attend to this moment, right now.
Attention squarely on the important things of the moment:
this little girl, seven turning eight,
what table to choose in this darling garden patio?
should we get a scone or another type of pastry or the fruit cup?
what is Devonshire cream anyway?
how are you?
what have you been noticing? or thinking? or hoping?
I began to notice her eyes;
the way she fashioned words;
the grown-up way she was sitting;
the way she perused the menu.
Time, so often my enemy, stood still.
Without my phone to capture the moment,
I took snapshots in my mind.
Froze it...right there.
Noticed the sunlight.
The tiny purple zigzag fringed flowers in a tiny vase on the table.
Her eagerness to watch the sand timer count out the three minutes -- the perfect amount for steeping the peach tea that we had chosen.
Her willingness to pour our tiny glass chiseled cups carefully full of the golden elixir.
We sniffed and savored and stopped.
We giggled at the dollhouse sized wooden spoons that were what allowed the Devonshire cream and jam to make it to our scones.
We talked and talked.
It goes without saying that my secret place has become her secret place...and, as is the worry with sharing secrets, she loved it so much she wants everyone to go there.
Immediately she asked if Daddy and Patrick could come next time.
How about her cousins?
Maybe this was a place for a birthday party?
I just smiled...and told her sometimes secret places have to be kept quiet and shared carefully.
My answer to every question was Cheshire Cat confusing...maybe...we'll have to see how it goes...
Right now I want to hold it close and keep it tucked out of sight.
But I know it won't last long...
she's itching to go again...trying for a second Saturday in a row.
I know she loved the tea and the garden and the Devonshire cream but I really think she's asking for more undivided attention.
I'm going to honor that request...try even harder...and I admit, I've done a poor job this week.
But, there's always Saturday.
A pot of tea
Some denim blue eyes
Time, lingering and lounging like a friend,
And the supreme comfort of really being present
as my present.