Monday, October 7, 2013

This would have never happened if I still had a car.

This would have never happened if I still had a car.
We sold our car at the end of August to teach our son to wait and to respect and appreciate differences in others. Yesterday I realized just how much I need to keep working on those lessons myself.

I was feeling Episcopalian yesterday, so Marshall and I decided to walk to a nearby parish for a 9:00 Eucharist. It was just about a mile away, so I budgeted a good 45 minutes to amble along. I've learned from walking Marshall to school that it is not uncommon to encounter spooky forests, volcanoes, and giant ants that need addressing. By the last quarter mile, my patience was wearing a bit thin. I think molasses could move faster than Marshall. We ran into a friendly neighbor walking his dog, and he found the situation rather amusing. When we made it to church, the neighbor said, "Wow. You have the patience of a saint. You deserve a reward for that."


Wait a second. 



While it was very nice of him to pay me a compliment (and it made my mommy heart feel good!)--do I really deserve a reward for taking a long walk with my child? And even though I was outwardly cheerful during the last few blocks, inside I was wishing desperately that it was over. When did our society start moving so quickly, when did everything become so convenient that a mile walk in the neighborhood morphed into a trial of patience? It was Sunday--what else did I have to do? 


To be truthful, I had a long list of things on my To Do list, but the "reward" comment was all that I needed to hear to mentally toss the list away. (That, and the fact that a particularly aggressive bee attacked me on the walk home, so I spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling with a bottle of Benadryl.)


Next week I am taking Marshall on that walk again. Next week I will try to be more patient. 



And this would have never happened if I still had a car.


Daniel arrived home just as Marshall was going down for his afternoon nap, and after a Benadryl-induced snooze of my own, we were ready to embark on the Grand Spiderman Costume Search 2013. We hopped on a bus and went downtown. 


We ended up at Target--not super inventive, but still fun--and Marshall left successful with the Spiderman costume secured. We had a 15-minute wait at the bus stop for our return trip. Up to this point, our bus trips have been limited to the neighborhoods north of ours. There were more differences to appreciate at the downtown bus stop. 


The 15 minutes felt like a long time. And in many ways, not long enough.


15 minutes of watching people ask for change. 15 minutes of listening to people having casual conversations about which drugs they were on. And for me, 15 minutes of feeling privileged, spoiled, and extremely extremely guilty for ever wishing I had more money. 


And we couldn't turn away from those that were different from us, because we were all waiting to get on the same bus.


Our little family is middle class on a good day. It is so easy to want more. Preschool tuition is expensive. The new city where we live is expensive. But I'm working less, so we are learning to live on less. It is so easy to want more.


Next week I will try to be more grateful for what I have. 



And this would have never happened if I still had a car.


We sold our car to teach our son to wait, but so far, I am the one who needs to learn to wait. Marshall is doing just fine. 


We sold our car to teach our son to respect and appreciate differences in others, but so far, I am the one who needs a lesson in appreciating differences and having gratitude for what we have. Marshall is doing just fine.


We sold our car to teach our son, but in reality, we sold our car so that our son could teach us.





A few pics of our costume hunt:




This would have never happened if I still had a car.

This would have never happened if I still had a car.

This would have never happened if I still had a car.





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