Traveling through Nica and discovering a few things . . .

Looking over these photos, I believe you’ll quickly spot a difference between what I saw in Nicaragua and what we see here.  You might notice a slight contrast in rules and regulations!

I spent a good portion of my time in Nicaragua traveling in the back of a truck.  It was awesome!

I SAW things.  I HEARD things.  I SENSED things that I would have missed in the cab with the windows rolled up tight, the air conditioning blowing and cool tunes playing.  My time with Together Works Nicaragua was a special one, and I’m thankful that was lucky enough to ‘get in the back’ of the truck so often.

The first day or so of the trip, I was baffled by the lack of restraints and laws and safety regulations.  I couldn’t believe it when I saw an entire family happily riding along on the highway atop a small motorcycle.  I was stunned when I saw a bus with folks filling it past comfortable.  I was astonished to see men and women and children hanging off of vehicles in the oddest places, in the most precarious spots.  I could not make sense of it at all.

The longer I spent in that different world, the more okay I got with it all.  I arrived at a different place; I saw the behaviors with a new eye.  (Let me add here that I am not suggesting that we lose our safety laws and throw caution to the wind.  Stay with me, though.  I’m looking at what we might learn from folks who live in a different way.)

I saw people getting around the way they could, taking care of business in the way that worked for the moment.  I think that’s my point . . . I was witnessing people living in the moment.  They weren’t fearing the what ifs or voicing the it can’t be dones.  They were blooming where they were planted and covering territory in the way that proved available.  And sometimes, they were enjoying being close to each other or feeling the cool wind blow.

I don’t contend that the folks in Nicaragua are without transportation woes.  Many roads are often impassable.  Public transport is hit or miss.  People can’t always get where they need to go.  There are problems.  It doesn’t always work.

I will have to admit, though, that it might not be all bad.   They are living in the here and now and smiling a whole lot!

A sweet toddler would relish sliding in between Mama and Daddy on the motorcycle to go see Grandma.

Hanging off of the back of a delivery truck, watching the world through a nice wind, would make a boring job a little more tolerable.

                                Traveling everywhere with your best friend would be nice.

I found the whole scene refreshing.  I know that accidents must happen.  I didn’t see any while I was there, but I’m not completely out of touch with reality.  I’m only suggesting that there was a lot to learn from my friends there.  I won’t forget riding along  in the back of the Toyota truck.  I would have missed so much if I hadn’t been in that spot.  I’m thankful for so much I learned there; and witnessing the way my new friends live in the moment, was among their finest gifts.

We’ve come a long way.  We’ve figured out a lot.  We have fine automobiles that will get us where we want to go and keep us in perfect comfort as we travel; but we miss some things.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to hold on to what I felt in the back of the truck.  I pray I can remember that progress isn’t always a gift and remind myself to open the windows and feel what’s going on outside of my comfy car.  I loved seeing the sights, hearing the sounds, talking to folks along the way and being in the moment.

At present, I’m working to figure out ways for my kids to experience what I did.  I don’t want any horrible accidents, but I sure wish they could feel what I felt.

As a matter of fact, I wish we all could, from time to time.

Like what?

This morning I witnessed the impossible.

This morning I conducted a test - a test of the Mothers Checking on Children's Brain Waves Association.  This was only a test.  In the event of an actual real-life moment, we would need further intervention.

On the drive to school, with only two miles remaining, I explained to my dear ones what was about to happen.  (We were at a red-light.)  I wanted to make sure the conducting of the test lasted the entirety of the two miles.

Here is a transcript of my test introduction: If this is a scary proposition, take a deep breath.  I'm happy to report that my children made it safely to school and all is well.

• Children, we will spend the next two miles discussing life, current events and school news.  
• Each of you will actively participate in this conversation.
• If, at any time, the conversation lags, I will direct discussion questions to each of you.
• As my offspring, it is your job to make it the next two miles without uttering the word 'like.'
• If you should err and use the word, you will recreate your sentence, refraining from the use of 'like.' 
• This will be tough.
• You can do it.
• I have confidence in you.
• Godspeed.

There was a nervous laugh, uneasy movements in their seats, as they wrapped their sweet little brains around the task at hand.

And then we began.  

Silence.  All conversation lapsed.  Quickly, I intervened.  

I directed a question at each of them - discussion questions where they had to think and could only answer using multiple words and phrases.  They answered.  

They began to talk, and they spoke v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y  and  d-e-l-i-b-e-r-a-t-e-l-y.  They woke up.  They took their time.  They concentrated.  They smiled.  They were attentively engaged in the moment.  

It was a struggle, but they persevered.  They would not go down without a fight.  

In that entire two mile trek, they held strong to the mission.  Only once did the word 'like' slip out.  The child who let it escape quickly noticed and began reconstructing the descriptive sentence with new word choices.  There was thinking involved.  It was beautiful to behold.  It was.  

It was a miracle.  If you have kids or have ever heard children talk or live in 2012, I think you can appreciate the astounding awe I felt in the moment.  My children talked.  I listened.  It lasted approximately four minutes.  Only once did the word 'like' enter the discussion.  I'll never forget it.  I won't.  

Why did I administer this exercise?  Because, like I like found like I was like curious if like my kids could like have even like a mini conversation without like saying like like every minute like.

What did I learn from this four minutes in the promised land?  Funny thing, I didn't glean what I thought I might.  I figured I would learn whether my children could actually speak without using the word.  I assumed I would sarcastically drive home the point that the Queen's English is being destroyed before our very eyes.  Those things did happen.  That's not what I'm taking away from this experiment, though, believe it or not.  

What I learned was something about being alert, awake, conscious.  I watched as I stripped my children  of a habitual crutch and I witnessed the intentionality of their every move.  I realized in that very moment that, as they believed I was proving a point that they use the silly word too much, they were actually teaching me something I won't forget.  Funny how that stuff happens.

They were smiling.  I was smiling.  We were having fun.  I was struck by how much things changed when they were forced to take a moment to really notice what was happening.  

Now I find myself wondering about all of the ways I 'auto pilot' through life.  

What am I missing?  What silly habits have I allowed to creep into my every move, every thought?  What would happen if I slowed down, became more deliberate, had to consider each thing that came from my mouth?  

Wow, like I can't even imagine!

Keep your eyes open - there could be a big bone in the soup aisle!

Really, there could be a large dog bone in the soup aisle!

I was shopping Sunday night; not having too much fun, not making the mundane very zen-like the way I read I'm supposed to and not really doing a very good job of checking things off of my list.  It was one of those shopping trips where your mind is all over the place - it would be great to get in, get out and show up at home with the ingredients for five healthful dinners.  It wasn't turning out to be such a trip.  I had a list that was a bit discombobulated, I was pre-occupied with the 'to-dos' of the coming week and I wasn't being very logical about the task at hand.  It would be perfectly accurate to say that I was not in an 'intentional' state.

I moved along, and the only thing I do remember being aware of was that embarrassing feeling of seeing the same family on each turn to a new aisle - apparently we were shopping at the same pace but in opposite directions.  I remember them, but that's all I remember.

And then, poof!  I was awakened!  I began rolling my eyes along the lower area of the soup section, though I don't believe soup was on the list. I sort of noticed that the 'low sodium' Progresso was just about gone and then I saw IT!  A LARGE BONE WAS IN THE SOUP AISLE!  I loved it!  It made me laugh!  It woke me up!  It made me wonder, "Why would someone stash a large bone in the Progresso row?

I shared one of those smiles inside, that only I see, and enjoyed the secret laugh about the large bone.  I giggled to myself as I stooped oddly to take a photo and saw the elderly man wondering what was wrong with me.  I imagined him going home, and just before Wheel of Fortune, telling his wife about the sad lady in the funny black pants who was taking pictures of the lower shelf in the soup aisle.  It put a fun spin on the ordinary shopping trip!

My trip took on a new face, and I began to make conscious decisions.  I opted to quickly get the few items on the list and then get out of there!  I didn't want to spend my Sunday night ambling around the store, just waiting to see what I came upon in the Ingle's.  I remember being sure of that.

The 'bone in the soup aisle' has had me thinking, thinking about the many times I must be 'asleep' in life. I wonder how many occasions I muddle through, barely aware, not being in charge of my actions.  I wonder how often I miss out on being awake.

I'm thankful for the crazy big ole' bone in the soup aisle and for the way it woke me up.  I love that our eyes can see the out of ordinary in the midst of the mundane.  I'm glad that someone stuck the big bone in that spot, glad that it made me laugh and delighted that it served as a wake-up call.

Sometimes I need that.  I  suppose you might, too.  I'm keeping my eyes open today - who knows what I might see.  It probably won't be another bone, but maybe it will be something hilarious or touching or loud or soft or kind that wakes me up, makes me pay attention.

Here's to wake up calls in the soup aisle.