Don't worry if your job is small And your rewards are few. Remember that the mighty oak, Was once a nut like you.
Raising kids is a tough job, with round-the-clock care and tending to their growing needs. All the monotonous activities of cooking the same meals, repeating yourself the umpteenth time to ears that don’t care, and doing the same thing almost everyday seem insignificant.
I can get into a rut, but I believe there is growth occurring everyday that will ground deep roots, extend tall, and sprout leaves reaching towards the sky: not only in our kids but in our souls as well.
Growing pains is often times unpleasant but essential. And like the poem states, I do feel like a nut a lot of times.
Can someone tell me how socks get lost once they enter the abyss of the washing machine?
I save a bundle of lone socks that have lost its pair. Sometimes I find one in a stack of folded clothes or hidden inside the corner of mattress sheets. The other day I found a lost pair in the garage.
I should throw them away because the bundle is getting too dusty and unorganized; there’s a bundle for kids and a bundle for the grown ups. I keep hoping that one day I’ll reuse them as a glove duster or sock dolls. I don’t even know what is a responsible way to dispose of them. But when I want to reuse it for another purpose, I can’t find the sock bundle. It’s a frustrating cycle of losing and finding things.
Where do they go? Sometimes it’s impossible to find the matching pair. But in the winter it doesn’t matter much when you’re wearing boots. You can get rebellious and wear two different kinds of socks. It’s a win-win situation: environmentally friendly and useful.
Each time I press the publish button, worries about writing the next blog post kicks in.
Writing gives me mixed emotions. On rare, very rare, occasions, words seem to flow effortlessly and I am convinced that I was born to write. But a majority of the time, writing gives me muscular back aches and emotional discomfort as I struggle to quiet my own critical voice.
When it’s going well, it’s exhilarating. When the words don’t come, the process is daunting and downright depressing.
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
– Ernest Hemingway
Producing anything good takes time, effort, and perseverance, but I overlook that on a daily basis. I’m constantly needing to remind myself that a small step taken today is closer toward attaining my goal. It doesn’t all happen in one sitting or in one day; the process is a journey that takes time and many surprise detours.
One thought at a time. One idea at a time. One word. One string of words. One sentence. Build from there.
I tell my kids that learning takes time and that a little progress made today is still progress. Easy to say but hard to do myself.