More Lessons Learned From Lyra

I've spent today listening to soothing music, studying spirituality and reading a book called "The Afterlife of Billy Fingers" by Annie Kagan. I'm not quite finished with it. It's given me a lot to ponder. It's one of those books that I need to let soak in for awhile, or I'd be writing about what it made me think about  in tonight's entry. Instead, I'm going to share a companion column to yesterday's offering, published when Lyra was 5, not long before she started showing symptoms of her brain tumor.

This was published in the Stillwater Newspress, stillwater, Oklahoma, November 3, 2007

More lessons from Lyra

Kay Thompson, Editorialist 

If I look closely, I find that my 5-year-old daughter, Lyra, has plenty to teach me. I’m constantly learning new things from her, whether I want to or not.

Cheer for others’ accomplishments. We were watching “Wheel of Fortune” one day, and Lyra started yelling, “Yay, girl! She won! Yay girl!” Lyra didn’t know the lady’s name. She probably didn’t even understand what the game was about. But she knew that the woman had won, and she was happy for her. What a good idea! I realized I should get excited about other people’s accomplishments, as excited as I would about my own. I’m glad for other people when things go well for them, but I could celebrate better — really feel the excitement.

Get up and dance. When Lyra hears a good tune she gets up and dances to it. She doesn’t care if anyone is watching. She just does it for the sheer joy of it. I would be self-conscious, even if I were alone, but not Lyra. I had the opportunity to get up and dance in front of some friends the other day, but I remained sitting in my chair. I wish I had danced, now, even though I’m pretty sure I would have looked silly to others. I would have had fun, though, and life’s too short to pass up a chance like that.

Stand your ground. When I’m exasperated, I think Lyra’s stubborn. She has a bad habit of ignoring me when I tell her to do something, especially if she’s otherwise busy at that moment. 

After all, brushing her teeth isn’t as important to her as finishing her game on the computer, and why would she want to get dressed when she’s engaged in playing with her toys? 

These may seem like stubborness to me but, to her, she’s just being persistent.

 

Sometimes I need to be more persistent and stand up for the things I believe in. I can be too accommodating, I fear — too willing to give up the things that are important to me, to acquiesce to others’ desires.

Look at flowers close-up. When there were still wildflowers growing in our little patch of yard, I watched Lyra get down on her hands and knees to look — really look — at a flower. I can’t do that. I’d never get back up again. But I do often look at things from too great a distance. I don’t inspect things in my life — don’t touch them, smell them, really examine them. Lyra found wonder in a stalk of crab crass. She picked it, felt it, even tasted it before I could tell her not to. To me, crab grass is a nuisance. To her, it was a fascinating thing, worthy of great wonder. How many things in my life have I brushed off as nuisances, when I could have found wonder in them?

Yes, I have a lot to learn from my little girl. I hope I never stop recognizing these lessons, because, I admit, I’m a more than willing pupil. And Lyra, even though she doesn’t realize it, is an excellent teacher.

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