{"id":2207,"date":"2011-07-22T06:45:32","date_gmt":"2011-07-22T06:45:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/?p=2207"},"modified":"2011-07-22T06:45:32","modified_gmt":"2011-07-22T06:45:32","slug":"the-hands-of-time","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/2011\/07\/22\/the-hands-of-time\/","title":{"rendered":"The Hands Of Time"},"content":{"rendered":"

There is a special place located in Indiana that was instrumental in setting my Hands Free journey into motion. I wrote about Conner Prairie<\/a> when I first started this blog. You can read about that day and the Hands Free epiphany that occurred in my post, \u201cLook Up<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Here I am now, on the verge of celebrating my one-year anniversary of living Hands Free. I don\u2019t think it is a coincidence that I recently had the opportunity to return to the place that got it all started.<\/p>\n

Nothing on the Hands Free journey is coincidental. <\/em><\/p>\n

This is my story\u2026<\/p>\n

About a month ago, my daughters and I had the chance to visit Conner Prairie, an interactive history park.<\/p>\n

Walking on the rustic grounds of the outdoor museum is truly like going back in time. This is how I described Conner Prairie the first time I wrote about it:<\/p>\n

Conner Prairie is designed as a historical town complete with a one-room school house, blacksmith, general store, baby animal barn, and town doctor, just to name a few of the features.<\/em><\/p>\n

Not only can you walk inside these structures, but the women, men, and children that work there dress and speak according to the time period in which they portray. For a little girl who dreamed of being one of \u201cPa\u2019s\u201d daughters on \u201cLittle House on the Prairie,\u201d I was as excited as my children were about this experience.<\/em><\/p>\n

Although I visited Conner Prairie just eleven months prior, I felt like I was seeing it with new eyes. No longer am I an outside observer of the slower, simpler, undistracted life that the museum represents, I am a participant. I am a participant. <\/strong><\/p>\n

Eleven months ago, I so desperately wanted to sequester myself in one of their old fashioned hotel rooms, forever abandoning my life of buzzing cell phones, addictive technology, overcrowded calendar boxes, overwhelming requests, and endless to-do-lists.<\/p>\n

But I knew I couldn\u2019t stay there forever.<\/p>\n

Reluctantly, I walked away from Conner Prairie eleven months ago, but I took something with me. I carried a new awareness, a profound realization: Although it was not possible for me to live in a placid country home of 1822, I was determined to take aspects of this simple, undistracted life and apply it to my own.<\/em><\/p>\n

Now here I was, almost a year later, back on the fertile soil where my journey began.<\/p>\n

So how did I do? Did the Hands Free tactics I incorporated in my daily life in the past eleven months enable me to grasp what really matters? Was I any closer to living life the way my heart yearned to live?<\/p>\n

As my daughters and I walked through the historical \u201ctown,\u201d stopping to go inside the school house, the hotel, and various old homes, my mind was flooded with Hands Free moments that had occurred over the past year\u2026moments that would never have happened if I hadn\u2019t made a conscious effort to replace daily distraction with moments of simplicity, stillness, and spontaneity.<\/p>\n

First, we stopped and spoke to a lovely young woman named \u201cDorcus\u201d dressed in traditional garb of the 1800s. Her long cotton dress gracefully spilled over the weathered bench on which she sat.<\/p>\n

In her hands, she held a small quilt patch pierced with a needle and thread.<\/p>\n

I watched in awe as she generously handed over her almost complete sewing project to my eager eight-year-old daughter and began guiding her.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Although Dorcus had clearly spent much time and effort on the creation, keeping it in pristine condition seemed unimportant to her. Apparently, she knew this experience would be much more meaningful and memorable if the children had a chance to try it themselves.<\/p>\n

As I witnessed her kind gesture, I was reminded of the times I let go of perfection, as well as the need to get something completed \u201cquickly,\u201d in order to create meaningful experiences and lasting memories for (and with) my children.<\/p>\n

I recalled many laughing sessions with my four-year-old laundry helper<\/a> over the past year. I thought of every dish my daughter and I washed together<\/a> and the multitude of muffins we baked<\/a> while sharing with her my favorite childhood memories of baking and cleaning with my own mom.<\/p>\n

As my oldest daughter described a potholder she recently made to Dorcus, I reminisced about the many lessons my daughters taught me this past year. I thought of my daughter\u2019s dream of having an actual school in our playroom<\/a>, the way she chose to sponsor the girl with the broken smile<\/a>, and the lessons three preschoolers taught me on the day I drove fifty miles in the wrong direction<\/a>.<\/p>\n

By setting aside my own agenda, worries of messes and personal inconveniences, I watched my daughters grasp what matters to them and learned more than I ever could on my own.<\/p>\n

Next, we came upon a tiny house derived of white washed wooden planks. Through the cracks in the structure, the most enticing smells escaped. Inside two robust women with perspiring foreheads pinched fragrant dough with strong, thick fingers.<\/p>\n

They kindly asked my children if they would like to help prepare meat pies.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

My daughters happily accepted the request to help. They were quite apt when it came to rolling the dough and stuffing it with tender meat, but placing it over the fire was a bit intimidating. After all, we bake in a oven, not over an open fire spitting intense flames.<\/p>\n

As my daughters bravely attempted to overcome their fear, I was reminded of the moments I had gone beyond my own comfort level in order to grasp what really mattered.<\/p>\n

I recalled several puzzles I had (embarrassingly) struggled to put together<\/a> under the encouraging guidance of my four-year-old, reluctantly getting my hair wet<\/a> at the pool, choosing a bike ride with my children over Superbowl party prep<\/a>, and playing the violin<\/a> after a twenty-year hiatus.<\/p>\n

In the past eleven months, I had attempted activities that weren\u2019t really \u201cmy thing,\u201d that I didn\u2019t necessarily like<\/em> to do, but did them in an effort to connect with the people I love.<\/p>\n

Next, we headed into the quaint general store. The gruff salesman in a stiff black cotton suit pointed out many tempting items to my wide-eyed daughters who thought they must be dreaming when he announced prices that did not have the word \u201cdollars\u201d at the end.<\/p>\n

My oldest daughter gravitated toward a china set in robin\u2019s egg blue and my youngest child drooled over sassafras candy sticks that only cost one cent (even though she had no clue what sassafras was).<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

My youngest daughter was interested in purchasing a twenty-five cent bag of flour at the general store.<\/p><\/div>\n

As my daughters carefully examined the interesting items surrounding them, I thought about my own delicate, priceless moments that I was able to witness and absorb in the past year. By slowing down and focusing on the now, instead of racing to the next activity or event, I was able to see exquisite beauty in even the ordinary details of life.<\/p>\n

Over the year, I had collected enough hellos<\/a> to buffer the impending goodbyes I will surely face. I waited joyfully<\/a>, instead of impatiently and angrily. I watched a humble man get an unexpected gift<\/a> and a sick child succumb to the peaceful refuge of sleep<\/a>.<\/p>\n

By refusing to let a ticking clock run my life, I was able to slow down and see providential signs everywhere\u2026.in the clouds<\/a>, on windowpanes, and in the eyes of the people I love<\/a>. I accepted these divine signs as confirmation that I am on the right path leading to what really matters.<\/p>\n

Once we toured the outer \u201ctown\u201d area of Conner Prairie, the girls summoned us inside to the interactive part of the museum. My mother-in-law took the girls to the papermaking station while I had the pleasure of caring for my eleven-month-old nephew.<\/p>\n

I spotted one of those silly mirrors in the dress up area. Knowing how much babies love mirrors, I carried my little dude over. (And I really must mention, my nephew has hair that puts Johnny Depp\u2019s coif to shame and should be admired regularly.)<\/p>\n

I slowly peeked his angelic face into the mirror and my cheesiest voice asked, \u201cWhere\u2019s Sam?\u201d<\/p>\n

From the first glance, he loved it.<\/p>\n

With every peek into the mirror, his wheezy, sucking air style of laughing became louder and louder.<\/p>\n

On what seemed like the twentieth peek, I realized my nephew was not the only one in the mirror who looked incredibly happy.<\/p>\n

Suddenly I saw the woman holding the baby\u2026literally and figuratively holding life in her hands. And on her face was the pure joy that comes from living, not simply surviving each day or getting through each day, but living<\/em><\/strong> each day with purpose, presence, and gratitude.<\/p>\n

In that moment I saw how far I had come in one year.<\/p>\n

I am now able to put into words what I couldn\u2019t bear to write before\u2026.<\/p>\n

Before, I was living life with one hand.<\/em>
\nOne hand always making a list,<\/em>
\nChecking things off\u2026checking things off.<\/em><\/p>\n

Before, I was living life with one hand.<\/em>
\nOne hand always planning ahead,<\/em>
\nOn to what\u2019s next\u2026On to what\u2019s next.<\/em><\/p>\n

Before, I was living life with one hand.<\/em>
\nOne hand always trying to please,<\/em>
\nMake everyone happy\u2026make everyone happy.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em>Before, I was living life with one hand.<\/em>
\nOne hand always striving for an illusion,<\/em>
\nMake sure it\u2019s perfect\u2026make sure it\u2019s perfect.<\/em><\/p>\n

Before, I was living life with one hand.<\/em>
\nOne hand always reaching full speed,<\/em>
\nDon\u2019t slow down\u2026don\u2019t slow down.<\/em><\/p>\n

Before, I was living life with one hand,<\/em>
\nBut then I realized one-handed living is not really living,<\/em>
\nNot living at all.<\/em><\/p>\n

Deep in my soul, I yearned to grasp what really matters.<\/em>
\nAnd I knew I couldn\u2019t do it with one hand.<\/em><\/p>\n

So I let go.<\/em><\/p>\n

I let go of distraction.<\/em>
\nI let go of perfection.<\/em>
\nI let go of excess.<\/em>
\nI let go of chaos.<\/em><\/p>\n

And when I finally had two free hands,<\/em>
\nI embraced life.<\/em><\/p>\n

I embraced life with two free hands and one whole heart.<\/em>
\nAnd THAT is when I truly began living.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Conner Prairie 2011: My hands are free; my heart is full.<\/p><\/div>\n

*************************************************<\/p>\n

Is this the end? Does my journey to grasp what really matters end here? <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

My next post holds the answer. I hope you\u2019ll come back. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

In the meantime, evaluate how you are doing on your own journey to grasp what really matters. What signs of progress have you witnessed? I\u2019d love to hear about them.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Or perhaps you are still unsuccessfully trying to embrace life with one hand? <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Isn\u2019t it time to let go? Let go of a little distraction, a little perfection, or a little chaos. It only requires baby steps<\/a><\/em> to making a big difference in getting closer to what really matters in this one precious life we have to live.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Let go. Do it today. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

There is a special place located in Indiana that was instrumental in setting my Hands Free journey into motion. I wrote about Conner Prairie when I first started this blog. You can read about that day and the Hands Free epiphany that occurred in my post, \u201cLook Up.\u201d Here I am now, on the verge […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":2202,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[480,106,484,479,13,249,482,481,483,485,478],"gutentor_comment":2,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/IMG_4811-e1310585412770.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1fUJF-zB","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2207"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2207"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2207\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2202"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2207"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2207"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2207"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}