“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” - Henry David Thoreau
My house is poised like a scene from "The Langoliers" (From Stephen King's "Four Past Midnight" - a great summer read!). I can feel the undercurrent of anticipated energy, waiting for time to catch up to the day.
The clacking of my keyboard echoes eeirly, only the occasional heavy breath from down the hall reminding me that I am indeed not alone.
It is so quiet that I can actually hear the laundry calling me from it's fragrant, steamy resting place.
It is quiet enough that I can hear myself think. Oh, I'd better stop that, it hurts a little. Great, now I've gotten started and I won't be able to stop. . .
Am I a good parent? Have I given my kids the tools for success in life? Is my definition of "success" enough?
More than anything I want my kids to get that song OUT and sing it at the top of their lungs. But what if I don't recognize the tune? Maybe I can just hum along??
I worry that I am not involved enough in what my nineteen year old is doing now that he's on his own (because, frankly, I don't really want to know!).
I worry that I am smothering my fifteen year old because she is a girl ("Take this pink ribbon off my eyes!")
I worry that my homeschooler will become an ax murderer instead of an actor and blame it on me (she MADE me read and never sent me to "Idol Camp"!!!)
And I am just getting started with the baby, she's only five and I've done rurnt her. . .
I hear stirring from the closest bedroom. . .little feet hitting the floor, padding up the hallway, and now, warm arms around my neck (excuse me. . .)
Well, apparently the song in her heart this morning is "Feed Me" (Seymour) I reckon I'll just mull OVER another piece of HDT's advice (I really like this one, too!):
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. "
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! FEED ME!
1 month ago