The real stuff is always the best.
We live in a multi-generational home: my wife and I, two daughters, and one seven-year-old granddaughter.
Today is the last day of school for calendar year 2020, and our first-grader was going through her usual preparation steps to head to class. The main ingredient of the start-of-day routine is dilly-dallying.
As the time to leave in order to make it to school on time approached and slipped steadily away, the little girl’s mom gently nudged her toward the door, only to have the young scholar find one other thing to do, one more doll to arrange, one more goodbye to say.
In the midst of this, the child’s mother looked and at me and came out with this gem of insight, “She has no sense of urgency, Dad.”
No sense of urgency.
It made me realize how many things devour my time because I deem them urgent.
But when you get right down to it, how much of what we do each day really deserves to be in the “urgent” column?
Not much. If any.
One of the healthiest things we can do for ourselves is to apply the brakes, to slow down long enough to reflect on the preciousness of each minute. Maybe the key to taking things easier is to meditate, listen to music, read an article.
I am convinced that a few minutes of writing down our thoughts each day is worth its wealth in gold because it breaks the urgency cycle, and forces us to reflect on things good, or bad, or profound, or flippant, or funny, or deadly serious.
I guess it’s really OK to have no sense of urgency whether you are seven or seventy.
A wise person once said we should take no thought for tomorrow because tomorrow will take thought for itself.
Maybe he knew what he was talking about.
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