Counting a Blessing

I spent the morning in Knaresborough, a beautiful village about 30 minutes north of my house, walking along the river and having a chat with a friend.  In the middle of our walk, I felt like I had misunderstood the instructions for the zone where I parked & I was going to get ticketed. 

A minute later, I saw a parking warden & stopped her to ask if I understood the instructions properly.  If she had said no, I would have walked back up a rather steep hill to move the car immediately.  But she indicated I was in the clear & not to worry.

Well, when our two hours were at the end, my friend and I headed back to the car, where we arrived just in time to see the same parking warden preparing a ticket for my car.  I rushed up to her & said that I was getting ready to leave. 

It turns out that in North Yorkshire, people put little paper clocks (known as "discs") on their dashboards so that the wardens know when they've arrived & if they have exceeded their allotted time in various parking zones.  Not having a disc in my car, I was due for a ticket.  But because I'd talked to her earlier that morning, she cancelled the ticket and gave me a disc instead.

So glad I listened to the prompting to worry about the car, that I talked to the warden when I saw her such a short time after, & that I was returning to my car before she completed the ticket she was writing.  Just a little miracle for today that I need to remember.

What is this like?

I'm currently reading a YA novel (The Medici Seal, if anyone is interested) in which Leonardo da Vinci is an important character. The narrator/protagonist describes how completely focused da Vinci could become -- to the point that time, physical conditions, and project assistants became non-existent.

I have a friend (LG--Hi!) who could block out the world when doing homework with Tori Amos playing in the background. Her powers of concentration still wow me.

Driving everybody home from school this afternoon, I was listening to an Irish novelist on the radio & he said something about the writing process that I am going to be mentally digesting for a long time: I'm so intent that it's as if I'm not there.

House Rules

Some childless friends stopped by recently and saw the "House Rules" posted in the kitchen. One of them observed, "Those wouldn't work in our house."

Here they are:

1. Only Say Kind Things
2. Only Do Kind Things
3. Inside Voices
4. Listen More
5. Do It Now!

The first three are mostly for the kids, the last two are mostly for me.

Yesterday was chaos because I didn't obey #5.

Graham had asked me to hang out with him in the family room, rather than doing my typical morning routine. Because I agreed, we were rushed getting everybody out the door for school, I didn't look at the calendar & totally forgot that Cami had a dance exam until she asked, "When's my dance test?" (as it was starting -- talk about a panic moment but it all ended ok), and I spaced it that a couple of friends were stopping by in the evening.

So, I got up when I woke up at 5 and got started on all those things I didn't do yesterday morning. Things feel much better. Now, to combine #4 & #5, I'm going to help Graham make pancakes.

Money Matters

I watched a really interesting Oprah interview on YouTube last week with J.K. Rowling. I have been mentally chewing on the segment where the two women discuss what it's like to have been devastatingly poor and then to be billionaires. Rowling refers to having such wealth as having a "superpower," many everyday problems just aren't a problem anymore. Oprah mentions those moments where she finds herself debating between two choices and then remembers, "Oh, wait -- I can have them both!"

With Christmas approaching, I can't help but think about how I really DON'T want things. What I want is that superpower Rowling talks about: I want my cabinet rewired for British plugs, I want all the lights in the house to work, I want a dishwasher. I want it not to matter that I left all my maternity clothes in NJ. I want to live in a house where I can paint the walls & put up pictures anywhere I want & rip up the bathroom carpet (yes, it's gross). I don't want to have to choose between the kids' swimming lessons and replacing the timing belt on the car. I want that freedom from mundane problems.

But Christmas isn't supposed to be about any of that. So I'll try to remember that the superpower of Christmas is the freedom from death & sin that is celebrated as we remember a very important baby's birth.