30 July 2008

The Gaps




I was thinking today, about Minding the Gap. Oh sure, my initial reason for choosing this phrase as the title of my blog was simply because anything connected to London makes me happy. It automatically brings a smile to my face and peace in my heart. But you know, I guess subconsciously, I was thinking about several other things.

There are so many gaps in our lives that we often neglect.

How many times have we stumbled through the cracks of not calling our moms to tell them about our day or giving them a hug to say "thanks"? Honestly, I think I forget to mind that gap all too often. At times, she drives me nuts and I would rather fall through to the tracks below. It almost seems like that would hurt a lot less than dealing with the stress. But that's only my selfish attitude sneaking out of the carriage onto the platform. Life would be a lot happier, if I closed the gap between my attitude and her anxiety by giving her a hug, or telling her she's doing just fine.

What about the gap between friends? I often see a post or a note on my Facebook, and think "Oh, I should call her." or "I should see what he's been up to lately", only to blow the feeling off and toss it onto the stairs, leaving it behind as I jump on the train. There are so many wonderful people in my life, that I haven't taken the time to check up on in the last week. I think about all the friends I knew and loved in Elementary or Junior High, or even High School, that I don't talk to any more. People that meant the world to me, that I called the second I got a new toy or the cute boy that sat in front of me in Geometry asked if he could borrow a pencil. What happened to them? Which gap did they fall into, that I haven't bothered to mind?

What about that journal gathering dust on the bookshelf? When was the last time you minded the gap between you and your great-great-great grandchildren? Did I tell them about the time you forgot to call home when you were late for curfew and your parents flipped out? Did you tell them about getting your excitement over your first paycheck, the freedom and thrill of your first car, the breathless thrill of your first kiss? When was the last time you wrote: "my life is boring, but I know that someday this could matter to somebody"? It's such a simple task, pulling it down from the shelf, and with a bit of ink, recording our personalities on the page for generations to come. Who knows what an impact your diary could make in a few hundred years.

Is there a gap between strangers that we should mind? I think so. At the grocery store, do we see some one counting their pennies, trying to buy a gallon of milk or a loaf of bread? That's a dramatic example, but what about the woman with a shock of white hair, glasses so thick you wonder if it makes a difference at all, and old hands that have seen nearly a hundred winters? I'm sure she's aching for someone to jump onto the platform, take her hand, and help her into a place where she feels needed, wanted, valued. It doesn't take much, just asking her name and pointing to a picture of her grandkids in her pocketbook. It takes asking someone how their day is going, and REALLY meaning it. Closing the gap with a stranger could be as simple as smiling, nodding your head in their direction, or letting them go through the door first.

I think the smallest gap, is the one that is most important. The gap between us and our Heavenly Father. How easy is it, to drop on our knees every morning and night, just to say hello? Flipping through a few pages of the scriptures and learning about his life only takes five minutes. And yet all too often, we flip the light switch, fling the blankets up around our chins, and start dreaming without even giving Him a thought. That's a gap I certainly could mind a little better.

I don't know. I guess this could be pushing a metaphor into the depths of an English Teacher over analyzing the word "the", but it was just something I was thinking about today. It's so easy to mind our gaps. And yet it seems that more often than not, we're stumbling over the yellow line onto the tracks, forgetting to head the ridiculously perfect voice that echoes throughout the station, reminding us every five minutes to "Mind the gap, between the train and the platform".

It's not too hard, is it?

Hello, Boy.


I found Peter Pan one day as I ran through Hyde Park. Sweat dripped down my forehead and my trainers squeaked on the path which had, of course, been covered by rain the night before. I did my best not to fall over myself as I slowed my run to a walk, and eventually stopped at his feet.
"Hello, boy" I murmured, smiling to myself. He was just as I pictured, glimmering in the early morning sun, the Long Water reflecting the light onto his face. A squirrel ran around his feet, gathering nuts and twigs, no doubt stashing them in a hollow tree nearby. I laughed as he ran up and down the trees, through the grass, obviously driving the fairies around Peter to distraction.
I decided to take a break from running and spend some time with Peter. Sitting down on the wet grass, i grabbed my feet and started telling him about my morning. Of course he was totally enthralled by my story: waking up at 7:00, grabbing an English Muffin to hold me over till I got home, tying my shoes on the stairs, then jogging down Palace Court until I reached Bayswater, only to be stopped at the light. "That's the worst," I shook my head. "I hate jogging in place, with all the other Londoners looking at me as they drive by." I sighed, "Oh well." I told him about the crocuses that were beginning to appear in Kensington Gardens, the swans on the Round Pond, and the dog that followed me all the way down to the Italian Fountains. I could tell he was really interested, but unfortunately, I had class to get to.
Peter's a great listener, though. He nodded in all the right spots, smiled when I told him the funny parts of the dog chasing me, and felt sympathy when I told him about the light on Bayswater. When I said good bye, he very quietly told me to come again soon, and I promised I would come back the next day.
I miss Peter; probably more than anyone I ever met in Hyde Park. It's amazing what one person can do for you. Quite often, Peter was the first one I talked to in the mornings. He was always there, faithfully, to give me a smile and a good morning. On sunny days, we would spend hours together. I'd bring my sketch book or some stationary, and he'd tell me about Neverland. On rainy days, which happened quite often, I'd hurry by to say hello, my green umbrella sheltering me from the drops. But I couldn't stay long.
I can't wait to go back and say hello once again. I'm sure he'll remember me. I know that Neverland makes you forget, but after all; we met in London. On a January morning in Hyde Park

23 July 2008

Starting a Blog

So, I never thought I'd do this: this blogging thing. And really, I don't expect anyone to come on here and find some amazing insight into life. I suppose this is just an excuse to write something for someone to read sometime...hmm...sounds like a good reason right?