Hurry Up.

In our distracted and busy life, every minute counts. Do you constantly feel like you have to check off an item on your list of things to do, staring at a screen, run to the next destination. And no matter how many ways you divide your time and your attention, do not count all the tasks you're trying to accomplish at the same time: there is never enough time in a day to keep up.

This has been my life for two hectic years. My thoughts and my actions were controlled by electronic notifications, the phone rings, packed agenda. And despite my "inner sergeant" had the goal to arrive on time for each activity from my busy schedule, I will never could.

You see, four years ago I was blessed by the arrival of a relaxed child, carefree, like "Daddy look what beautiful flowers, you smell them?"

When I trembled to leave the house, he took all the time to choose the game to hang out with.
When I had to be somewhere "five minutes ago," he insisted to the seat to ensure his stuffed doll, buckling his seat belt. If we had to eat quickly from Subway, he stopped to talk to the old woman next to us who looked like her grandmother.
If I had, by chance, thirty minutes to devote to a jog, he insisted that we were to stop to pet every dog ​​cross the street.

My baby was a gift for my personality type A, but I could not figure it out. I could not realize it: when you have a hectic life so your view is limited, you can only look ahead to the next event on the agenda. And all that can not be popped from the list is a mere waste of time.

When my son made me deviate from the established schedule, I thought to myself: "We have no time for that." As a result, the expression I used more with the little love of my life was: "Hurry up!".

My sentences started in this way
Hurry up, or we'll be late.
They ended so well.
"We will lose everything if you do not hurry."
My days were leaving with this word.
Hurry up, finish your breakfast.
Hurry up, dressed quickly.
My day ended with this word.
Hurry up, brush your teeth.
Hurry up, go to bed.

Although the phrase "hurry up" did not cause the desired effect, to increase the speed of execution of the various tasks, I I persisted using it. Perhaps even more often the words "I love you."

The truth hurts, but the truth heals ... and brings me closer to the kind of father I want to be.
Then, one day, everything changed. One day I said, "You're so slow." When folded his arms and let out an impatient sigh, I saw myself that image I broke his heart.
I did put pressure and hurry to a child who wanted nothing more than to enjoy life. I opened my eyes. I saw clearly the damage that my hectic existence was causing my son as well as myself.
I looked at my little in the eyes and said "I apologize for having forced to run all the time. I love the fact that you take your time, I would be like you more often."
The face of the little child was an expression unmistakable confirmation and acceptance.

"Starting today, I promise that I will be more patient," I said, hugging him, beaming in front of this father's promise. It was simple enough to banish the word "Hurry" from my vocabulary. The hardest part was to acquire the patience promise. To help both, I began to give her more time to get ready, when we had to go somewhere. And, even then, he happened to do even later. In those moments, I reassured me, saying that would only last for a few years, then it would grow.

When my son and I went out for a walk or went to the grocery store, the I allowed to set the pace. And when you stop to admire something, I bored from head the thought of my commitments and I watched him, simply. On her face, I saw expressions that I had never read before. He studied the dimples of his hands and the way her eyes half closed when he smiled. I watched the way people reacted when he stopped to talk to them. He discovered his talent in recognizing insects and flowers. He was an observer and I quickly learned that the observers of the world are a rare and wonderful gift. At that moment, I realized that he was a gift for my frantic soul.

It's been two years since my promise at the same time I started my journey to the abandonment of daily distractions, towards greater concentration on the important things in life. Follow a slower pace still requires a conscious effort. My son is the reminder that I need, it reminds me that I have to keep trying. Here is a small example of what he says or does, every day, you remind me constantly.

During the holidays, we granted a slush after a bike ride. Once you purchase this refreshing snack, my son sat at a picnic table enjoying the happy ice tower between his hands.
Suddenly, the look of concern crossed his face:
"I have to hurry, Dad?"
I could have cried. Perhaps the scars of a busy life never disappear complemente, I thought sadly.
While my son looked at me, waiting for an answer, I knew I had a choice to make. I could sit there, saddened, thinking about all the times that I had put in a hurry ... or celebrate the fact that, by now, I try to act differently.
I chose to live in the present.
"You do not rush. Take your time," I replied. His little face lit instantly, his shoulders are relaxed.
There we were there, side by side sit, speak of the things we can talk about a 5 year old. We also enjoyed a few moments of silence, smiling and admiring the scenery around us.

I thought that my son would eat all his snack but, come to an end, has preserved the last taste of ice and sweet syrup for me. "I left you the last bite, Daddy," she said proudly. The crushed ice will never be as good as that time I had just completed the deal of my life. I took some time for my son ... and in return, he left me the last bite, reminding me that things have a sweeter flavor that love comes more easily when you stop running.
Take a break to enjoy the simple joys of life is the only way to really live.