The Important Things In Life

A few short hours ago I carried a sleeping girl to her bed. When I took her out of the car she placed her head on my shoulder and for just a moment I stood under the moon, closed my eyes and listened to her breathe softly. As I stood there I thought about Gilad Shalit’s parents and how agonizing it must be not to know what is happening with their son. Stood there and thought about the protest that is going now and shook my head because it will get so little attention. Terrorists supported by states that are funded by oil dollars that come from the cars we drive.

Slowly walked inside the house, closed my eyes and tried to absorb the moment because I will blink and my almost seven year-old daughter will be 18. Stood inside the doorway and realized that the only home she has ever known will not be ours for much longer. Time is no longer a friend. Instead it has become an adversary.

Moments later I walked out of her room and thought about what I wanted to write about. Inside my mind I could hear Don Henley singing Boys of Summer and a wistful smile graced my lips for just a moment. I really do love this blog and all that comes with it. I love the writing and the interaction. You, the readers make a significant difference here. My fellow bloggers have a significant impact upon my love for this too. But in the midst of this virtual lovefest I need to tell you that comments are not currency. You can’t use them to pay your mortgage or buy your groceries. But some of us go a little crazy trying to coax them out of others.

It is well after midnight and I am wide awake now. Wide awake and wondering about what it is that I do and what it is that I should do.

Sometimes the best writing is that which is pulled out from your heart, the kind that is like bubbling magma. It is painful to read because you just tore out a piece of your heart and the exposure to air is rough.

Spent a little time talking with my son about grades, life, expectations and the future. Wanted to make sure that he understood that grades are not the measure of a person. Wanted to make sure that I am most interested in his learning and not in how well he regurgitates information. Love these conversations with him. There is nothing like getting the chance to hear his thoughts and learn a little bit more about how he thinks. Tried to help prepare him for the changes that are coming sooner than later but there is only so much that I can do to help him bloom where planted.

Technically the days have gotten longer and the nights shorter but it doesn’t feel like that to me. Instead I feel like the hours are racing by at light speed and I fight to keep up. In between the moments I think about the streets of Jerusalem and remember the places I have been and faces of friends no longer here. There is far more to say and not nearly enough time to say it.  So for now I bid you adieu until the morning provides me with a new opportunity to revisit these words. In the interim I am ready for the joy of restoration and rejuvenation as bestowed upon us from a good night’s sleep.

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