“Momma, can you put a note in my lunch box?”
This is PoppyLynne speaking, our youngest, the one who arrived to our family when her oldest brother was thirteen. She moves through life in the wake of all this hubbub, all this organized chaos. She is named, first of all, for the red poppy flowers in England, the bright fields of spring; she is named, secondly, for my aunt Linda who died of cancer a month before she was born.
“Momma, can you put a note in my lunch box?”
And at first Maile isn’t sure what Poppy means.
“What kind of note, honey?” she asks her, thinking only of the notes we usually send—doctor’s notes, or early pick-up notes, or requests for some thing or another. “Do you need a note for something today?”
But when Maile doesn’t get it right away, Poppy grows shy, as she often does.
“It’s okay. Never mind.”
In the hurry of the morning, Maile walks away, but it remains there, lodged at the back of her mind. What was Poppy talking about?
* * * * *
Just before it was time to leave for school, Maile pulled Poppy aside one more time.
“Poppy, what do you mean, a note for your lunchbox?”
Poppy looked shy again, but Maile pressed, and eventually she answered.
“You know, like a love note.”
“A love note?”
“Yes, a love note from you, in my lunchbox.”
“Oh, Poppy,” Maile said, nearly in tears. “Of course I can put a love note in your lunchbox.”
And so that day, when Poppy arrived at lunch, and opened her lunch box, nestled there among the veggie sticks and pretzels and peeled orange slices was a love note from her mother.
I wonder how many of our ills in life could be righted if we simply built up the courage to ask nicely.
* * * * *
The newness of this year drips from the eaves of the house alongside the strangeness of this warm, winter rain. The gray sky clings to the treetops like a torn veil.
What will this year hold for us? What pain? What love? What beauty?
After a quiet week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, January flies at us like a tractor trailer’s headlights at night. There are a million things to do and a thousand things to think about and a hundred things on the to-do list, and how can this year be better than every previous one, and how can I hustle harder, work more, accomplish even greater things.
But in the middle of December, as I thought about this upcoming year, this 2023 (doesn’t that sound like something out of a sci-fi movie?), I remembered the practice of choosing a word for the year. And while I haven’t chosen a word, a theme has emerged.
Faithfulness versus distraction.
These were the words I thought about. What would my life look like if I stepped back from the grind, the hustle, became less concerned with outcomes and more concerned with my day-to-day focus and faithfulness to do the things and do them well?
This is what we’re talking about over at the podcast today.
* * * * *
Finally, we have two classes starting in the next two weeks. Find out more about them here:
Such a sweet story about the note in the lunchbox. I homeschooled my last daughter and when my mom needed me to care for her, we decided she could try highschool. I put notes in her lunch. Sometimes a famous or inspiring quote. Sometimes a word of encouragement and sometimes just the love note. Some of her new friends would see her open the note. One day she came home and said that her friend, Nick asked if I would pack him a lunch once in a while. So I did! I think you are right! The kids in this world really need a packed lunch and a note these days! Glad Maille did it! Such a quick and easy thing to do but so appreciated by your sweet daughter.
I loved your latest podcast episode and the concept of pursuing faithfulness over distraction. Faithfulness feels full of so much permission and possibility (and a slower pace...thank goodness).