Life Runs Like a River

It’s summer and that means one thing: family road trips

This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.

As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!

Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.

As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.

Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.

It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.

On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”

I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.

And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.

When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.

I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.

But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”

We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.

So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.

Unlimited Minutes and Other Technology Tricks

Last week, a colleague entered my office at about 2:30 with a request. He needed 160 copies of a document that didn’t exactly exist by noon the next day. I mentally scanned all the other items on my plate and realized this was now the largest pile of potatoes. So I jumped in, serving “drop-everything” requests to at least three others in the process.

One of them was a co-worker who I needed to confirm some facts. He called several of his sources, but none answered their cell phones. We impatiently searched the web for information. No luck.

He placed more calls and text messages. Skunked again. “Hmm,” he said in disbelief. “This is the first time I’ve ever called Lynn when he didn’t answer his cell.”

The first time? Ever? Despite my desire to complete the project, I secretly applauded Lynn for being temporarily unreachable. Clearly, he’s way too accessible.

Not so many years ago, this request would have been impossible. Producing and printing 160 color copies of a four-page document laden with facts and statistics would have taken weeks or even months. Today, not only is it possible, it’s fairly reasonable.

I wish I had been involved in the business world before the Internet, email, cell phones, fax machines or even Fed Ex. I want just one memory of a conversation that ended with, “OK, I’ll get it in the mail today,” and the recipient had to wait days or maybe weeks for the item to show up in a mailbox.

Today, most documents arrive electronically often bearing a red exclamation point. It’s the perfect symbol for our culture today. The faster technology delivers, the more we cram into our lives. We can fish and work, drive and text, all at the same. Unlimited minutes, always available like Lynn to confirm facts.

This pace has a lot of us frazzled. Monday, within one hour, I heard, “June is awful for us,” “Today has been just unbelievably crazy,” “I’m so tired of being busy,” and “What do I want? To rest.”

But as much as we complain about the busy state of our lives, how many of us are willing to change it? To ask, “What’s most important to me?” and to make the tough decisions that will turn those priorities into reality.

At a graduation this weekend, a speaker talked about the importance of standing aside in life for things that are important to us rather than following everyone else’s priorities or complacency.

I thought about this advice recently when a dear friend complained to me about being so busy that she doesn’t even have time to enjoy simple things with her kids, like taking them to the park.

“Why not?” I asked. She offered a litany of reasons about how the tasks consuming her time were contributing to an important professional goal. “What other goals do you have?” I asked. “Well, the kids of course, those are our most important goal,” she said.

We left the conversation at that. Four hours later, she called me back. “Guess where I am?” she said before even saying hello. “Having a picnic with the kids at the park!” And then she added triumphantly, “I’m leaving my cell phone in the car.”