Friday, Aug. 15, 2008
Real Life
Columnist Dr. Cindy Ryan is taking a summer break. This is an editor’s choice from her past columns. It originally ran in March 2006.
Recently, I read of a man who, in this day of mission statements and purpose-driven living, said his mission in life was "simply to be amazed."
I like that.
I spent the first part of my life majoring in achievements and accomplishments — grades, degrees, titles and expertise. It seemed important to set goals, big ones even, and work diligently and in a focused way to achieve those goals.
Then, I became a mom and my children showed me something else. They lured me into a world where amazement and wonder seemed more important than the task or goal at hand.
Once, my preschool-aged son single-handedly prevented me from backing the car out of the garage until I joined him in checking out the worm on the driveway. Actually, it was not enough to just check out the worm. We had to look at this worm on hands and knees. We had to name the worm. We had to marvel over him. We had to devise a way to save the worm from the back tires of my vehicle.
My son was just a little guy. He couldn’t even speak in complete sentences yet, but his worm-wonder was powerful and contagious.
When was the last time you were amazed?
I recall being amazed a week or so ago when it thundered for the first time in months. I stopped what I was doing and just listened to the booming, rolling sound of it.
I am continually amazed at how fast my children are growing. How can it be that those little bodies know when it is time to change? How can the same little worm-wondering boy be tall enough to look at me on eye-level now? How do the seasons know when to change?
All I know is that life is a gift. Nature is a gift. People are a gift to us. Gifts, of course, are meant to be savored and to be wondered over.
Rachel Carson, biologist and writer, put it this way, "If a child is to keep alive his or her inborn sense of wonder, that child needs the companionship of a least one adult who can share it, rediscovering … the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in."
I think it might work the other way around … we adults need at least one child who can remind us that life is meant for pausing and wondering over.
One thing I observe in grandparents and great-grandparents is that they get it. They understand how fast time flies and how precious each moment is. And they seem much better at capturing that which needs savoring.
What might happen today if you and I marveled over a morning sky or wondered over a worm? What if we savored the food on our breakfast plate a little more or that sleepy spouse sitting across the breakfast table from us?
Could it be, that in this age of mission statements, it really might be enough to simply be amazed?
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