Blowing Bubbles

 

I have to confess I’ve been in a gloomy state for a few days. I’m tired of this weather. Everyone in my house is sick, and now I’m coming down with this creeping crud that everybody else has—so of course it’s hard to get any sympathy around here.

 

I came to work this morning snorting and blowing and grumbling.

 

Then I heard the preschool children playing in the gym area—the weather’s too crummy to go outside. The teachers had the bubble machine going—like they used to use on Lawrence Welk? And the children were running about chasing bubbles and laughing. Some reached out to pop them. Some liked to look closely to see the pretty colors. Others wanted to stand of them and just watch them float.

 

I’ve been told I need a hobby—something unrelated to work—something fun.  But everything I enjoy I incorporate into the job: writing, music, speaking… eating jelly doughnuts.  It’s important for all us to have a break, but like many of you, I have a hard time doing that.

 

However, the bubbles looked fun.  I stood with the kids and let the bubbles cascade slowly down around me. The kids and I discussed the matter: “I like bubbles!” “Me too!” “Try to pop some of them.”

 

I thought about how fun blowing bubbles used to be, how I used to have nothing more on my mind than watch a clear sphere float in the air. 

 

And I felt a lot better. 

 

Are the cares of the world getting you down? We have a lot of them these days. But we shouldn’t let them steal our joy. Maybe you need to go blow some bubbles.