Just Another Day/Another Hand Up

Just Another Day/Another Hand Up

He knew he shouldn't have done it. I could clearly see he knew it was wrong: it was written all over his face. As I sat down to discuss his "wrongdoing" with him, my Son quickly squeezed his eyes shut. There he sat, thinking>with three-year-old logic< that if he couldn't see me, then I must Not be able to see him, and if he was invisible to me, then he could about the conversation and consequences he anticipated.
     I'm soooo Glad I could see him in that moment. While I couldn't condone his actions and we needed to talk on them, I really didn't want anything to come between us. I wanted him to look fully into my Face and see how much I love him and it was that very moment where I could see the generation gap between him and his sibling.
   I've always wanted to Learn how to play the chello. But I've never found the time to enroll in a class, Or perhaps more accurately, I haven't made the time for it. Sorry if Any offense but I had just always thought that I could probably master the instrument in Heaven lol.
     Life is short, and we often feel the pressure to make the most of our time on Earth before it slips away. As my kids contemplated the meaning of life, in they're 'HomeSchool', she offered two recommendations... First were to live in the most meaning way we can. The second was diligent work. Life is full of opportunities, and there is Always more work to be done. We are to take advantage of each and every one of these opportunities and to prioritize work and play in a way that uses our gifting to the advantage of Not only ourself but others.
     Whatever your hands find to do, do it with all your might.
     As I queved up the ticket line toward my destination, ticket in hand, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned and received a warm greeting. "Karen! Do you remember me? It's Joan! My mind flipped through various "Joan's" I'd known, but I couldn't place her. Was she a previous neighbor? A past coworker? Oh dear... I didn't know.
     Sensing my struggle, Joann responded, 'Karen, we knew each other in highschool'. A memory rose: Friday night football games, cheering from the stands. Once the concept was clearified, I recognized Joan.