How Did I Get Here?

"How did I get here?"


Do you ever step back from your life and wonder that to yourself?


Here is the super-short version of how we got here, to become The Simpson Six:


Well, once upon a springtime, a 19-year-old-hippie-college-guy passed a 21-year-old-wide-eyed-and-in-her-own-world-college-gal in the middle of the street and he crossed his eyes at her. She went back to her girlfriends and informed them that Jason Simpson was going to be her new best friend. We attended a small college...so even if you didn't *know* someone, you at least knew who they were--especially if he had hair past his shoulders and never wore shoes.


Then a few weeks later they happened to be diving into the same rock quarry one afternoon after classes with some mutual friends and she caught him staring at her (and he probably caught her staring back). Well, let's fast forward about 4 months to the end of the summer when "Boy Who Does Strange Things With His Eyes" and "Miss Stephanie" finally, officially met...and were instantly inseparable...and so began the start of life as we know it.


Some things are easier than others to pinpoint exactly how you got to where you are now.


What about how you got to the city where you live? Can you pinpoint the moment that led you to the place that you call home? What about the neighborhood (or not) where you live and the house or apartment where you reside?

What about the car that you drive? Or did you make a conscious decision not to own a car? How did you get there?


What form of exercise to you enjoy? Do you enjoy exercise? How did you land on the level of activity that you currently practice?


What is your occupation? Do you have an occupation? Is it by choice or by chance that you are in this role or not at this time? Is this occupation a long-term career that you plan to remain in? For how long? Is it a short-term job that is right for right now? Are you living your dream?


How did I get here?


What foods do you choose to consume? Do you know why you choose to purchase the foods that you eat when you visit the grocery store each week? Do you visit the grocery store each week? How did you learn to cook what you eat, or when did you decide that you were not going to cook your own meals?


If you practice a religion or call a faith your own, how did you get there? Do you know why you believe and do not believe that which you do? What led you to those decisions?


We are the sum of our experiences, but can we always recall what experiences have shaped us to be who we are today? 


How did I get here?


Do you live your life with a purpose in mind and can you point to the markers along the way that have led you to where you are today? If you look back, can you see the answer to "How did I get here?"


More importantly, do you like where you are? Life is not a game of chance. Live intentionally. 


When you look for the answer to "How did I get here?", may you have a smile in your heart as you recall the moments in which you made the little decisions that pointed you in the direction of living the life that you want to live. Even if it's as seemingly insignificant as crossing your eyes at the cute girl in the middle of the street, or smiling back at the barefoot hippie crossing his eyes at you, may you always find the answer to "How did I get here?".

When "good enough" is good enough

Yesterday evening we were all getting ready to sit down for dinner. Jason was bringing the meat off the grill, I (Stephanie) was plating the food in the kitchen while the kids were cleaning up toys and books from the afternoon. We set the table and 5 of us sat down to eat--everyone except for Lydia.

Waiting for Lydia is not an uncommon occurrence in our family. Lydia is pretty much my blonde mini-twin. One of the traits that she gets from the Highley side of the family is that she moves at her own speed--most often that speed is "mosey". That was not the case last night.

Lydia was bustling around, with purpose in her steps as she was picking up and neatly putting away every last toy and book where it belonged. All of the things that her siblings left where they lay to come to the table for dinner. Lydia saw what needed done and worked diligently until it was finished.

Have I mentioned that Lydia is also our resident "messy"? This ties into her deeply creative and artistic nature. She is not one to naturally see order, and organization is not one of her strong suits. Caroline and Ian keep me on my toes and probably know better than I do how to put away our toys and books in their proper place with their Type-A, left-brained leanings.

So, the fact that it was Lydia who was cleaning after everyone else abandoned the task was noteworthy, and I took a moment to thank her for her help and for following through until the job was done. I told her that she was going above and beyond what we expected and we appreciate her effort. She sheepishly grinned and whispered "Thank you."

Not to be outdone, Caroline immediately piped up, "What about me? I did a good job too, right?"


(Sigh.)


It's always present in our lives, isn't it? We do what is expected, we try to do "good", but we look around and compare ourselves to those around us and suddenly we wonder if we're "good enough". We want the praise that someone else receives, and we compare their extraordinary moments with our moments of adequacy.

Adequacy. We're hitting the mark. Meeting expectations. We are "good enough". If everything that we did was extraordinary, it would no longer be extraordinary.


I took a pause to think for a moment how to respond to Caroline, knowing that my response in this moment was worth more than a flippant remark. "Yes, Caroline, you did do a very good job and did exactly what we asked you to do. Lydia went above and beyond and even though we didn't expect her to get everything cleaned up, she took the initiative to finish the job."


Somehow it still didn't seem like "enough" of an answer to her question, but I hope that love and grace will somehow cover over an answer that was adequate, but certainly not extraordinary. I wish that I had the eloquence to speak words of wisdom in everything that I say to my kids, but I just don't. And I try not to compare my moments of adequacy, such as this, with other moments of extraordinary wisdom that I have heard from Jason as I listen to him speak with one of the kids from time to time, or from other parents who seem to always have just the right words to say--at least when I'm around. Because I know that we're all just doing the best that we can. And that's "good enough".



So, what would you have told Caroline?