I was repairing my manure wagon yesterday and it reminded me of something my friend's 3 year old told me years ago:
He was on his knees in the dust in the farmyard, flaying his arms every which way and pounding the ground while swearing a very blue streak....=:^x#bxx # @ !!** (xh5!cu** di"**! whack whack...swear... whack.
When I asked him what it was he was doing, he looked up in bright eyed earnestness and replied,
I had to come back to this post; there is much more to say about the wisdom of three year olds. This boy knew too the sweet pleasures of a job well done and had opportunities to watch more graceful, dedicated well equipped people work; solve the problems incumbent on repairing a well loved machine. Or the boots who carry you the day through.
Frustration or despair set in from time to time, I'll admit that. The causes of that are few: not enough people, and/or skilled people, and/or money to set up with dignity/ efficiency. So knuckles get bashed. And disks pushed to ulcerate and not enough sleep. The edges get frazzled.
Dignity and humiliation. These are the things a three year old knows.
I like to go back there sometimes. know those first vulnerabilities; remember that unshakable forgiveness. Be like that lion that gets up, shakes it off and is on to life completely again.
Dignity can be regained. Let longing come and go. That is ok.
I can get the job done gently, the best I can ... be slower and smaller.
There may be a day this old house will be filled with happy, skillful people whose repertoire of wisdoms include that of a 3 year old's.
Now of course I'm reminded of all my farming friends; some that I haven't seen for a very long time; and I remember these stories that farmers like to tell. So watch out for a new theme on the sidebar!