Monday, August 17, 2009


I'm not sure which is worse, getting ready to leave, or unpacking when you get home. We are always so excited about visiting family and friends and can't wait to get on the road. It seems to be taking longer every time we leave. I make lists of things to do, then I make lists for the things I've done and still need to do. I have lists of people I need to call and follow up calls I need to make before we leave. When we get home, I need to do the laundry, go through the mail and sleep.
It would seem there is a lot more preparation to leave than to come home. I don't have check lists when we come home.
My Dad will be 92 years old next week. I can't wait to see him. I miss him. I talk to him on the phone frequently, but it's not the same as sitting across the table from him. I haven't learned how to hug him thorough the phone yet either.
When I asked him if there was anything he had his eye on, he said don't buy me a thing. I just want you to be here. The older I get, the more I realize how important the little things in life are. When I was a teenager I had a wish list longer than my arm. The older I get the more I realize and appreciate time. That is, time someone gives to me. Whether it be a friend or family. When they make an effort to spare a few minutes of their time to share with me I appreciate it. Time isn't something you can buy. You can't hold it in your hand, nor can you display it somewhere. Yet time is a precious commodity. It's also a barometer, to me anyway. If someone loves me enough to spend an hour with me, to share lunch, or watch a movie, I feel truly blessed.
And yet time, doesn't "cost" anything. Maybe I'm just growing older and finally realize what the important things in life really are. If you want to impress me, tell me you spent an afternoon reading a book, the Bible, especially, to a friend in a nursing home. Tell me you visited your elderly next door neighbor with a plate of cookies and sat and just listened to them share their concerns. Tell me you volunteered at a soup kitchen. Then tell me how blessed you feel by that experience.
Funny how it works.

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