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Wave

Have you noticed that nobody waves anymore?

Well, not nobody, but most do not wave.

Sure people wave at those they really know, but just the good ole raise of the paw to a stranger is very uncommon in these times we live in.

Matt is a waver. I am not.

It’s not that I’m not friendly, it’s just that when I’m driving there is typically a “crisis” of some sort in the back and I am intent on staying on the road and not crashing.

But this is really no excuse. There are plenty of times I’m alone or the kids are behaving and I don’t wave because I just don’t wave.

We, as a society, are so busy. We are so connected, yet so secluded.

It’s very sad, actually.

We don’t have time for community. For shooting the breeze. For worrying about other people’s needs over our own. (I’m talking about myself more than anybody else in particular.)

Back in the day when life was slower (which I’ve seen only on T.V.), people visited each other’s houses, sat on the porch while the kids played in the yard.

The women stayed home so there was more time for friendships. People weren’t off here or there every single day like our lives are today.

I’m envious.

I hate the hustle bustle. Life is fast enough without the added nonsense. All the fill in the blank we pile onto our schedules takes away from the real fragrance, the essence of what makes a satisfying life.

I read an article about an elderly woman who really had no reason to be happy and content. Blind. Old. Moving into a nursing home. Yet she was pleasant and gentle. Satisfied.

How in this world we live in is there such a thing?

Satisfaction?

It seems so unattainable.

But she had it. She couldn’t see, but she had it. She was close to death’s door, but she had it.

Her secret was a choice. She chose to — despite her circumstances — get up each day and be content. To accept each moment, whether it was good, bad, boring, exciting.

She filled her “memory bank” with those contented memories and now, although she can’t see and is moving to a place most people dread, she is satisfied. She can make daily or hourly or minute-to-minute withdrawals from the “bank” of her youth, which she intentionally filled with memories.

Wow.

Stopped me dead in my tracks.

Sounds like something I need to do. Something else I have to do.

But I’m too busy to do this.

Two kids have ear infections and are on different dosages of antibiotics. School is starting and there are school supplies to label, doctor check ups. Clean the house. Make dinner. Oh, I have a headache. The daily grind.

Nope, I am too busy.

Choices.

Can I afford to be lost in the busyness. No.

I can’t afford to be carried away by the speed of this society.

I am going to stop.

Intentionally.

Breath.

This moment only.

Choose.

To.

Stop.

Typing the words makes my pulse slow. Makes my ears more attuned. My eyes can see life. My vivid life. What I don’t want to miss. What I can’t afford to miss.

Because one day I will (God willing) be that old woman.

Someone will be dropping me off there at a nursing home and I will be alone.

If I’m too busy to enjoy and accept and choose to be content in my life now, how can I expect to be happy or content or satisfied then?

I have decided I am not going to put off living, breathing in and depositing the precious and sustaining memories of now.

Today.

Masen is nearly the age Kadence was when he was born.

It was only a blink ago.

Today.

My brother will celebrate his 18th birthday this week. It seems like only yesterday he was a toddler.

Today.

Didn’t I just graduate high school? Nope, my 10-year class reunion is this year.

Today.

Right now.

This life stage.

Breathe in.

Feel.

Smile.

Choose to accept.

Choose to be satisfied.

Take the time to wave.

Categories: Life on the farm Uncategorized

Ginia

My name is Ginia Oehlschlager and I'm a small-town gal from Missouri. Join me as I document my crazy life on the farm with my husband and four kids. I'm always looking for frugal, simple ways to live the life God set before me. Where faith, family and fun come together on the farm.

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