I've tried different approaches to getting dressed and putting on my make-up. Make-up, of all things, makes me cry. So I apply the little that I wear in stages.
One of Taylor's friends often coached her on make-up tips, and in turn, Taylor sometimes shared with me.
"Mom, your eye liner needs to go up in the corners of your eyes. It will make your eyes look bigger and you younger."
So if she were home on a Saturday night to show me, I would ask her "do my make-up". I never noticed much difference between what she did and what I did. (I think that's the reason she coached me.)
I still haven't gone through Taylor's bathroom cabinets. Her make-up bag remains open in my vanity drawer. I cannot bring myself to put them in a box as well. I cannot.
The new make-up routine slows me down in the morning, but so does reapplying mascara for the second time.
What seemed urgent before, doesn't. Nevertheless, I get out the door, reminding myself that this is mission and the gift I've been given to share.
Within hours, I am reminded that often I am served in greater ways than I give. A colleague and I grabbed lunch at Bueno in between meetings. I had barely walked in the door from the blustery, wet day when I was embraced, literally, by a former student, "Mz. Witch!"
She hugged me so tightly. She had been a student of mine while I was an assistant principal. We spent a great deal of time together, and ten years later, she still comps my lunch tab. I frequented her drive-through window for years encouraging her to continue her schooling. She's married now and has a child, and while she has started her degree - she is still trying to finish it. She told me about a new job opportunity and its prospective benefits that include the company financing her schooling. The hug was a gift; the love she shared offered an empty heart solace; however, the fact that she would still talk to me about her goals reminded me that I do have a purpose. And that time matters.
It's takes time to put on make up today, but I am thankful for the time Tay spent making up my face - even if it costs me tears each morning.
It takes time to pour into students so they see the success they can hold and be and make.
It takes time and different routines so we learn to carry this load.
It takes time because there is no clock for these days.