Something caught my eye as I stood in the front yard talking with my neighbor. I looked up to see my two-year-old daughter racing, arms outstretched, down the slope of the roof toward the edge. My heart stuttered. I broke into a run, hoping to get close enough to catch her when she stepped into space. Instead, she stopped, her small feet poised near the drop off, a smile as big as the Grand Canyon on her face. She still had her arms out, and I could see how delighted she was to have this vantage point. My expression of utter panic didnâ€™t faze her.
This wasnâ€™t the first time my daughter managed to climb on the roof. Sheâ€™d been eighteen-months-old the first time she found her way there. Since then, we often heard from neighbors driving by, who would call when they got home to tell us Anne was on the roof again. Hooray for small towns.
Despite my repeated attempts to apprise her of the dangers, Anne loved being up so high. I would send her outside to look for something, and when I would find her on top of the house, she would say, â€œBut, Mom, I can see better from up here.â€ Who could argue with that logic? Well, I couldâ€”and did.
Sometimes, in life I get bogged down. There are everyday mundane chores that never seem to end no matter how often I do them. When that happens, I can find myself forgetting the joy and fun in life. All I see are the piles of laundry, the dirty dishes, the nitpicky editing I need to do, and on it goes.
I have to remember to be more like that two-year-old. My attitude doesnâ€™t have to be that of a grumpy person, even if I have a lot of responsibility. Not that I intend to run across my roof, but I do need to put my arms out sometimes and surrender all the things that weigh me down. I need to keep alive the joy in my life.