Everybody has a story...

Have you ever seen an older person as you've rushed from place to place through your busy day? Did it ever cross your mind that they were a bit too slow because you needed to move a bit faster to get where you were going?
I believe, because I am guilty of it myself, that sometimes we take for granted the wisdom of those that have lived here much longer than ourselves. We sometimes write them off as just souls that are waiting out the final days of their time here on this earth; especially when we discover that they are the ripe age of 101. I am certain that once we discover that a person we associate ourselves with is a hundred and one years old that we automatically assume that they are not as sharp in their mind as they were twenty years ago and from time to time; it even crosses our minds that they must even be a bit feeble minded.

However, regardless of the opinions that we have already decided to be fact; sometimes our whole perception of those wise old souls can change in a second. I've watched my daughter return to the same piano teacher over the past 4 years of moving back and forth to NC. I've always felt quite fortunate to have a graduate in music of the Methodist University teach my daughter for so many years to embrace the joy of music. I'd always ran in and picked up Abbi and just smiled at the old soul that seemed to take such joy in teaching my red headed girl to tickle the ivory's since she was 5 years old. I never thought much more about her after picking up my little red headed beauty and driving away until the following week until I took the time to listen to what she had to say one day before driving away.

Just like all the times before; I'd rushed in to pick up my now "almost 13 year old" and say hello and goodbye as I rushed home to make dinner for my starving family. However, today was different as my red headed girl whispered to me that she had discovered the 101 year old secret that I never would have guessed to be anymore than 80. My heart sank to my feet as I pondered how much my red headed beauty had grown to love this old soul in front of me. Of course human nature leads us to think of merely one thing when we hear so many numbers belonging to someone's age; we automatically think that their days are few. I walked away with my amazed red~headed beauty smiling like she'd discovered the greatest news ever. She told everyone that would listen that her piano teacher was 101 years old proudly!~

I felt different the next week dropping her off for her hour long lesson; a bit sad that soon this day might belong to another teacher with a more youthful style that didn't teach the same old fashioned love of music that the happy old soul taught my daughter. I walked in the same way, hoping to rush out and home to cook dinner but I didn't get to leave quite as easily today....

She gave us the pictures from the recital the week before and she smiled as she placed the family one in my hand. I noticed a set of striking blue eyes that I'd never taken note of before looking at me as she told me how much she'd loved our pictures. I saw a smile that was lined with a hint of pink lipstick that led up to perfectly rosey cheeks and lined eyes that she'd taken a long time to perfectly paint for the days students. I realized that even at my what seemed young now, 39 years that I hadn't even taken the time to perfectly paint my eyes in weeks. I looked up at a painting on the wall as I waited for my girl to collect her books and I saw those big blue eyes smile at me again, "I painted that she said with a smiling face". Wow! I thought to myself how amazing to find out that this talented old soul was once a painter and a musician!

She told me story after story of her college days and of art competitions and blue ribbons and of piano recitals that she'd been having for over 50 years. Her eyes lowered as she told me of losing the man she loved but then they brightened again as she recalled stories of the way he treated her in those younger days before. I even heard a girlish laugh as she told me of the nicknames he gave her and of the time they discovered bunnies living in a hole in the front yard and he'd called her to see them; leading her to believe it was a herd of snakes. Her bright blue eyes lit up with laughter as she pointed to the spot in the yard that they once lived. She stood up happily smiling because someone had taken the time to listen to the story she'd had to tell and walked us to the door.

I know that Monday dinners will never be ready by 630 for many days to come as long as this happy old soul is teaching my daughter the joy of a long life filled with music; but I also know that sometimes we have to take the time to listen to the stories that those wiser than us have to tell. I feel lucky to be the one that was fortunate enough to get to realize that despite the years that have passed us~we are all just people with a story and sometimes even a girlie laugh....listen to what they have to tell you my friends, they have a story too<3 p="">

"Wish I could go tomorrow"

Surfers have always fascinated me. I've watched their too tan bodies from the shore on numerous occasions. It's amazing to me that one wouldn't get a bit frustrated trying to catch a wave after being wiped out time and time again into the rumbling ocean. It seems like a lot of work for such a short lived rush. I just can't imagine working so hard for something that lasts sometimes less than a minute.

It's even more amazing as I sit over my coffee and watch the story of a young teenager in neon board shorts telling the story of the terror he felt as a shark sunk his razor sharp teeth into his leg. It gives me chills to even try to imagine how it must feel to be in the ocean and know that a shark has chosen your leg for an afternoon snack. I'm certain it would keep me from trying to catch any more waves in the future. However, this young man had the same response as many before him in the same situation. "I'm definitely going to surf in the future, wish I could go tomorrow."

It's always shocking for us to hear stories of someone suffering from a great injury and their response is that they can't wait to put themselves back in the same situation again. I thought of this young man as I ran on my 11 week post surgery foot this morning for just the second time after recovering from surgery. It was a little easier to take off today than it was that very first time. I think we always have a fear of things healing like they are supposed to or even of re-injuring ourselves when we get back out there for the first few times. However, the love of the rush rather it be surfing or running or even falling from the sky a zillion feet in the air is usually greater than the fear of the risk, so we find ourselves back out there hoping for the best outcome.

I usually hang out on the shore when I'm at the ocean. I love the sound of the sea, the smell of the salt and sunscreen that lingers in the air as I drag my feet on the edge of the sandy shore. I must admit though, sometimes I do look out beyond that endless blue ocean and wonder what it would be like to feel the water under my feet and the waves slapping my back. I smile as I see them picking up their boards and making their way up and down, setting and resetting the perfect position to catch the perfect wave. I move a little closer until I can feel the water sinking my feet into the sand. I can't swim so I run as I smell the ocean breeze in the wind against my face. I don't even put on shoes but just pitter~patter in the soft sand beneath my feet; mile after painless mile. I start to understand more why the answer is always, "wish I could go tomorrow". As  
I finish and grab my towel and a cold bottle of water; I can't help but have the same response. I sure hope I can do this again tomorrow.
Life is short my friends, do what you love <3 p="">