Don’t interrupt me… I’m in training.
I’m practicing the art of sitting still.
This is not easy. My should-be, could-be list is growing exponentially as we speak. It starts out fairly normally: I should exercise, empty the dishwasher, grocery shop and purge my email — then spirals out of control: create a new flow chart for work, bake cookies for all the kids’ teachers, solve world peace, end hunger.
You get the picture.
But here’s the thing: When I park myself on the living room couch with a cup of coffee and a soft blanket, it creates a strange, magnetic force.
The 6-foot, 195-pound individual who lives in the basement appears, parks himself on the couch next to me, eating Cheerios. The 3-foot, 40-pound pixie sits at the piano and plays the “Nothing Chipmunk” song she created (“It’s called nothing because you can play whatever keys you want, and it’s called chipmunk because it’s only the high notes.”) The almost-18-year-old lumbers through, detailing his plans to visit a different church today with friends. And the Golden Retriever, rawdhide bone in mouth, has lapped the room twice, crumpling to the floor in a fur pile on my left.
Honestly, they could care less if my email was color-coded, my Tweetdeck updated with the latest software, or my presentations completed. And, actually, they would prefer I didn’t say too much.
All kids really want from their parents is for them to BE there. With open ears and hearts.
This Christmas, my gift to myself and my family is working on being present.