Measuring

Last week, I was called a dinosaur. Not because I’m 29 ½, not because I have a long neck, and not because I’ve been known to eat people alive after a burst of temper…no none of those.

I was called a dinosaur by another dinosaur because I've been with the district for a long time. In fact, the four of us talking (two teachers, one nurse and me-- one IT person/soon to be school social worker) have been a part of the school district for years.

We talked about a teacher friend who had lost her mother to cancer. We talked about grandkids and favorite nieces. We talked about my newest grandson’s red hair…and Irish tempers—not his—mine.  

It was about then that my sweet nurse friend said something like, “Jesse will be gone a year this Saturday.” Jesse was (is) her middle child who died of cancer in 2009.

A year? We were all silent. Then she said something like, "It’s funny the things we measure."

That got me to thinking.

I measure:

My happiness in relationship to Fridays,

My life pre and post divorce,

My success by others,

My possessions by what I don’t have,

My talent by others' talents,

My “ mature” beauty by teeny bopper beauty,

My blessings by my desires.

We measure all sorts of things. How long someone has been out of our life. How long someone has been in. How tall we are, how much we weigh, how much money we make.

Then I wondered...what would my life be without the pressure of measurement? How about yours?



Photo source here.