I recently took my 2 year old and my 8 month old for a visit with my one hundred two year old great aunt.  It was powerful.  Along with tickling baby toes, passing pictures back and forth, catching up on family news, and sharing the many joys of being together, “where does time go?” came up as a reoccurring theme.  I once heard someone suggest that minutes drag and years fly.  It certainly seems that way at times.  I remember being a child, playing at aunt Chilli and uncle Marv’s house.  I remember them both as vibrant, healthy, and full of life.  To me, this seems like only a moment ago.  My uncle Marv worked in scarp metal, and he was exceptionally strong.  He could open a walnut by crushing it with one hand.  Fun for a little boy to watch!  Uncle Marv left us too soon.  While he is always with me, I sure do miss hanging out.

During our visit, My amazing aunt Chilli, who is incredibly sharp and funny, repeatedly mused about how, “the years sure do fly by,” and don’t they though?  A few years go, at her hundredth birthday celebration, I asked her how she was feeling.  Without missing a beat she exclaimed, “the golden years can kiss my donkey!”  Only she didn’t say “donkey.”  While her intention was to get a good laugh from me (something she still works on and does well), it also made me think.  I regularly preach about being present, to myself and anyone else who want’s to listen.  The problem is that I don’t always hear it.  Strange.  I understand that we are each only given a certain amount of time.  I truly believe that the best bet is to enjoy it.

This past week at a district level leadership meeting, one of my Directors distributed a list of thoughts on positive leadership from Jon Gordon.  One of those thoughts was something to the effect of:  frame “what you have to do” as “what you get to do.”  What a great idea!  When I think through that lens it doesn’t take much to remember how incredibly blessed I am.  Life is certainly not always easy, but what a treat that I “get to” live it!

Right now I get to be sitting in a little café, taking a short break from getting to sort through e-mails and plan for a meeting.  I just got to eat a really tasty bowl of chicken noodle soup, and while it’s relatively cold outside, I get to see and feel the sun peeking over a building to my right and streaming in through a wall made entirely of glass panels.  A group of older ladies has pushed a few tables together a few feet away from me.  They get to be knitting and telling stories about what matters to them.  There is no shortage.  Not a lull since before they settled in.  Even as the yarn, pattern books, and needles were coming out of their bags, I got to learn about cousins from Ohio, doctor visits, in-laws, Jimmy repeatedly losing his winter gloves, Maggie and Paul’s 50^th anniversary, and so on.  I’m half expecting Alex Trebek to appear with a pitch for Colonial Penn Life Insurance.  The store manager gets to stroll around with a sweeper, joyfully engaging in conversations with his customers.  He gets to ask them how they like their food, and then transition into extended pleasantries.  Young families get to eat together.  A woman in a booth gets to make out her bills.  An elderly couple gets to sit together, chatting, and staring resolutely into one another’s eyes.  The man is tall and gangly, slumped over, with his knees almost touching the table from underneath.  The woman’s feet don’t even reach the floor.  They’re dangling just above.  She’s wearing one of those big, Russian style, fir hats that seems like it would make a cozy nest for a family of squirrels.  It looks really warm and soft, and it brings the top of her head up nearly a foot, almost matching his.  He mostly gets to listen.  She mostly gets to talk.  They both get to look really happy.

We each get to do something different.  As educators, we know that some of the things our students and colleagues get to do are relatively difficult, sometimes distracting, and often hard to understand.  I believe that when we are able to, modeling joy through the undertakings of daily life is a good way to foster a sense of joy in others.  I am so easily distracted.  Visiting with my incredible aunt, seeing her play with my children in the same ways that she played with me a relatively short time ago, and believing that the we are each only limited by any restrictions we assign to ourselves, reminds me that I must work harder to find the joy, and the meaning in every moment.  The knitting ladies, the happy older couple, the store manager, my aunt Chili, the students I serve every day; while unique in many ways, we are all very much the same.  We will each encounter a series of moments within the time that we are given.  When I am actively thankful for those moments, it helps me connect with my base, and it brings me ever closer to being the best learner and leader that I can be, for myself, and for those around me.

Dream Big.  Work Hard.  Be Well.