Do you ever feel like the pressure is ON? On you! Catch the ball. CATCH IT!

I was out kayaking this morning with Peaches. Yes. Dear Peaches, getting wet as I dip the paddle on one side and then the other: drip, drip…

(not another boat ride?)

We were passing this swim dock. It was hard to see until I was close: there were maybe 6 children about 9 or 10 years old and then a father figure/coach in the water nearby. The children were lining up on the dock and jumping in one after the other. The trick was that the guy in the water was passing a small ball to the kid jumping – who would try to catch the ball midair. They were pretty good at it. All except for Irene. Irene couldn’t seem to catch the ball. Rather than let it be, the coach would wait til she swam back to the dock, and tell her to go to the front of the line and try again. Catch it, Irene! CATCH!

I felt for her. Here was something that looked like fun. And now: DO IT.

Maybe I was projecting. I want every child to feel the ease of the lake experience: the water is warm, it’s mid summer. You can relax. Go jump in the lake.

I also recognize that this “guy” reminds me of myself. What part isn’t performing? Notice. Get it right.

In my journey with Lyme, that’s been a tough one to figure out. And in my pillow/tote experience, I find myself also circling back around, back up on the dock… I’ll get it this time!

I took a detour from the pillows to the tote bags.

I laugh as I think of the pillows (“Come take a rest”). And then the switch to tote bags (“Take this!” to help you carry whatever, as you head out the door). Let me help you relax. Let me help you when you get up and go.

So, yes, I had so much fun designing the tote bags that I realized the pillows could be better.

I’m reminded of when I was small. All I wanted to do was to draw a horse. I’d work on it, work on it. And then take the drawing to my father. He would look at it. And then carefully correct it: the belly is round, the neck is straight, the head is not quite parallel, and look at the eyes and nose and mane and tail and how the legs move and and and. I would come away… maybe next time.

Year and years later, I would every so often try the horse drawing again. And think to myself, you will NEVER get this right. But then, at some point, something shifted.

I decided to draw my horse, my way.

My horse.

I thought about Irene on the swim dock. Would she ever catch the ball? Would she keep trying?

Or would she find her own horse.

Someday, I want to be able to say:

“Here – rest on THIS pillow.”

“Here – take whatever in THIS tote.”

Someone in your past tossed you a ball. Catch this! You know the feeling right? Were you are challenged in ways that did or did not work for you?

And you found YOUR way. You did. Yes?