I constantly find myself telling our youngest child to hurry up. No matter where we go or what we are doing, that boy is always last in line.
He seems to live in his own world and on his own time, and it almost never coincides with mine. It’s irritating beyond words when the child has two hours to get ready for a ball game, yet as we are walking out the door, he still doesn’t have his glove.
I’m always telling him to “get ready” and “be prepared”, and I know he hears me because lately, almost every time we reach our destination, he yells to me from the back seat of the car, “Mom, I’m preparing to exit!” But we always seem to be left waiting.
Not only then; I find myself hurrying that child along almost everywhere we go. At the grocery store when he’s eyeballing the candy aisle, appreciating all the delicacies that he can’t wait to try “when he grows up”. Or on our walks when there’s really no reason to hurry, yet I can’t seem to let him go at his own pace.
I was doing my usual, “Come on, Brisco!” the other day, when I found myself feeling a little ashamed of my impatience, while admiring the little man’s ability to appreciate the beauty of the moment.
It was evening, getting too cool to be outside, yet no matter how many times I banged on the window or yelled out the front door, I could not convince him to come inside. So, as we mom’s sometimes do, I stomped out with a belt in hand and a promise of a good spanking to go with it. It was at that moment that my four year old dawdler brought to my attention the most beautiful sunset I’ve seen in quiet some time. “I just wanted to watch the sky change colors,” he said.
As if that slap in the face wasn’t enough, the next morning, I awoke to find this email in my inbox.
“In Washington, DC, at a Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about three minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About 4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At 6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes:
A three-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent-without exception-forced their children to move on quickly.
At 45 minutes:
The musician played continuously. Only six people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theatre in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.”
The article noted several possible conclusions that one might draw from this experiment, but the one that caught my attention the most was this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made. . .how many other things are we missing as we rush through life? A little like an unhurried four year old and a sunset, I suppose. Thanks, Brisco, (and the Washington Post) for the lesson.
Enjoy life now...it has an expiration date!
And that’s All in a day’s work!
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