Jake is plinking out a song on the piano and I can tell it’s not flowing the way he expects. I ask if I can help and I am greeted by frustrated tears squeezing through his determined eye lashes. He fully expects to play every song perfectly the first time through and anything less than perfection is, to him, failure.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, I am doing my best to explain how to get to the lowest common denominator when I see John pinching his eyebrows together and shaking his head and knowing it’s already too late to stop the hot tears of frustration over another math conundrum.
I’m afraid it’s probably my fault since their father has this gentle gift of patience. Not me. I have walked in these shoes. I also wanted to play the song perfectly on first crack. I also cried at jumbled math problems. I am not patient and am usually feeling impatient when I am explaining to the boys why they need to have more patience! I have come to the conclusion that I cannot lead by example in this regard, and since dad can’t always put on his cape and come to the rescue, I have no choice but to ask the boys to follow the example of someone else at our home: our pets.
It’s true. My kids would be better off studying the virtues offered by our animals than their own mother when it comes to reacting to roadblocks, setbacks or life’s little disappointments.
Kitty Miley has a round black ink spot on her nose and you can usually find it pressed firmly against the side of our fish tank. She is addicted to what we call fish TV. It’s the same channel-- same show hour after hour after hour. But each morning she faithfully tunes in with the same chipper meow and sets about her work of trying to paw her way into the tank. She digs and watches, digs and watches. She seems undaunted by her lack of success. I admire her ability to retain her cheery disposition while remaining fish free.
But if ever there was a lesson to be learned from an animal it was from our old dog Bob. He was a feisty red head who barked incessantly but was loyal and good natured. His habit was to run top speed each morning to the huge trees in the front yard sending the squirrels chattering to safety. Each morning, I believe, he thought he would catch one. Each morning he came back to the house un-phased by his apparent failure. Until one day fate intervened. I wouldn’t believe this unless my husband hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. The squirrels were apparently arguing in the tree tops as Bob arrived for his morning visit. Just as Bob looked up, panting, as he did every day of his life, one came tumbling from the sky and landed squarely in Bob’s mouth! Bob gave that squirrel a firm head shake and left his long sought after reward at the base of the tree. His symbol of success did manage to recover from the shock and return to the tree tops, but I don’t think Bob ever dashed quite as fast to the trees after that perfect day.
It may not always be possible to remain patient when I’m struggling. But I am hopeful I can learn from these gentle brown eyes and perky white whiskers just how I might be a better example when life isn’t perfect but I want to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment