I walked the kids into the school this morning instead of dropping them off in the carpool lane. I am glad I did. On our way in the front door of the school, a handsome kindergartener stopped to hold the door open for us. I must have told him thank you because he replied "you are welcome, ma'am". I do remember thinking, "what a polite doll of a kid". After zombie walking my little one to her classroom and giving hugs and kisses, I was stopped by a first grader who complimented my shoes. I looked down to see what pair I'd shoved my feet into before heading out. I must have thanked her also because she replied with a sweet "you are welcome, have a good day". As I approached the door to the parking lot, a bigger kid did this amazing spin move that snapped me out of my sleep walk. I thought he might have dropped his snack pack or some other important thing. Nope. He was turning around to open the door for me.
Chivalry is not dead at the elementary school, my friends.
And this is when it hit me. I've been telling myself the story (and anyone else I thought might need some explanation for my catatonic behavior in the AM hours) that I am not a morning person. I am such a good teller of stories I've convinced myself my brain doesn't function very well until noon.
While waiting to cross the line of eager carpoolers (maybe a 15-second pause), I decided "why not flip the story" and see what happens?
I quickly rewrote the story in my head. Even the little snippet I was able to think up in the short pause sounded strange in my head like I was narrating the life of Mary Poppins. But I forged ahead. "Why not?", I told myself. The outline of my new story went something like this: I love mornings and am grateful for a brand new chance to discover all the possibilities the day may bring.
Those kids sure did brighten my day with their kind acts and words. They must tell themselves a whole 'nother kind of morning story....
Could I do that too? Why not???
Crazy, but I actually saw things I've never noticed before on that ten-minute drive down a long, straight country road that I have traveled daily for almost a decade. There is an old windmill in a small thicket of trees right next to the road. Who put that there this morning?
Next, I slowed down for what appeared to be a disabled pickup truck. On closer inspection, I saw the truck's owner on the other side of the street taking pictures of the dairy cows. I almost took a picture of the guy taking pictures of the dairy cows. I'd never noticed before how much cows like working it for a camera. Awesome.
I pulled over to watch Cookie (the neighbor's baby pygmy goat) and his yellow kitty for a little while before heading to my office.
So far, this little "why not" experiment is pretty happy stuff. I realized somewhere along that short drive down the long road you've really got to watch the stories you tell yourself. You might start believing them, and then you will probably start becoming them. Holy cow! I could have single-handedly kicked off the Zombie Apocalypse! Nobody wants that...
I hope your day is just as happy and filled with possibilities. Why not?
Peace and love from the farm,
~L
Chivalry is not dead at the elementary school, my friends.
And this is when it hit me. I've been telling myself the story (and anyone else I thought might need some explanation for my catatonic behavior in the AM hours) that I am not a morning person. I am such a good teller of stories I've convinced myself my brain doesn't function very well until noon.
While waiting to cross the line of eager carpoolers (maybe a 15-second pause), I decided "why not flip the story" and see what happens?
I quickly rewrote the story in my head. Even the little snippet I was able to think up in the short pause sounded strange in my head like I was narrating the life of Mary Poppins. But I forged ahead. "Why not?", I told myself. The outline of my new story went something like this: I love mornings and am grateful for a brand new chance to discover all the possibilities the day may bring.
Those kids sure did brighten my day with their kind acts and words. They must tell themselves a whole 'nother kind of morning story....
Could I do that too? Why not???
Crazy, but I actually saw things I've never noticed before on that ten-minute drive down a long, straight country road that I have traveled daily for almost a decade. There is an old windmill in a small thicket of trees right next to the road. Who put that there this morning?
Next, I slowed down for what appeared to be a disabled pickup truck. On closer inspection, I saw the truck's owner on the other side of the street taking pictures of the dairy cows. I almost took a picture of the guy taking pictures of the dairy cows. I'd never noticed before how much cows like working it for a camera. Awesome.
I pulled over to watch Cookie (the neighbor's baby pygmy goat) and his yellow kitty for a little while before heading to my office.
So far, this little "why not" experiment is pretty happy stuff. I realized somewhere along that short drive down the long road you've really got to watch the stories you tell yourself. You might start believing them, and then you will probably start becoming them. Holy cow! I could have single-handedly kicked off the Zombie Apocalypse! Nobody wants that...
I hope your day is just as happy and filled with possibilities. Why not?
Peace and love from the farm,
~L
