These are the days - don’t wish them away

I had another article planned for the week, but then this happened and the words poured forth...it seems fitting given the time of year and my season of life.

On Sunday night, I looked everywhere in the house for my 12-year old daughter. 

• Not in her room.
• Not in the TV loft.
• Not in the sunroom.
• Not outside. 

Where did I find her? In my office. It was reminiscent of this photo taken in 2020 during the early days of the pandemic (minus the onesie pajamas.) 

She had a lot of homework and decided my office, tucked away from the fray in the lower level of our home, was the perfect place to get to work. (The plethora of pens, paper, stickers and assorted other office supplies also makes this an attractive school work zone.)

One of the things she showed me after her work session was this poem she wrote for language arts class. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this:

THIS.  This is HER CHILDHOOD in 13 lines. 

I was brought back to every single moment. 

• Every chorus of each song. 
• Every episode of the Saturday morning cartoon lineup. 
• Every road trip and hotel room.
• Every bite of the kid-friendly carb-filled meals.
• Every bedtime story followed by a back rub. 
• Every single push on the creaky swing set. 

I lost my breath for a second when I read the final line: sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.

During a session with my coach last week, she said I was beaming. I told her this is my favorite time of year. It’s filled to the brim with spring sports, dance recitals, final projects and musical performances. 

The beaming made sense to her. 

She reminded me that I’m living in my highest value this time of year: family

And each of these big events bring with them small moments that fill up my heart.

In this season of life, my “Where I’m From” poem goes like this:

Softball games in the spring sunshine.

Soccer games against the setting sun. 

Dance recital sneak previews in the living room.

Final project planning at the dining room table. 

These are the days. 

Don’t work them away. 

These are the days. 

Don’t multitask them away.

These are the days. 

Don’t wish them away. 

Whenever I’m tempted to miss an inning or jump on a call during a lull in the action, I pause and remind myself of the commitment to honor my highest value. When my mind drifts to a pending appointment or looming project deadline, I bring myself back to the present moment. 

The call can wait. The text can wait. The thought can wait.

Because the game doesn’t stop when a call comes in. 

The play is not paused when my head is pointed at the screen. 

These are the days - Don’t wish them away. 

What would your “Where I’m From” poem sound like in this season of your life?

Thank you for reading this article. I draw on my experiences as a coach, author and speaker, as well as my roles of wife, daughter, mother, sister and friend to create content on meaningful connections and living authentically. I recently documented my 6-month Quest to "Shed the Heavy" and invite you to subscribe and follow along as I continue my progress. Other work that might be of interest: 52 Weeks of Meaningful Connections and my bestselling book Let Her Out: Reclaim Who You Have Always Been.