"Have you started your jar yet?" my sister asked on the phone as I drove from a teeth cleaning to a coffee staining to start my day. "I am up to $6.00," she reported in the 52-week Money Jar Challenge commenced with a new year and commitment to deposit $1 in Week 1, $2 in Week 2 and so on to an accumulated savings of almost $1400 dollars. "Not yet. But I did set up our Good Things Jar. And I plan to make the Calm Down Jar too."
My Good Things Jar sits in our living room, a container for laugh out louds, surprises and memorable positives including "our first fire in our fireplace,"a spontaneous 'I love you' from my daughter" and "when my dog farts," the latter sentiment from my girl. A stack of meticulously cut papers and pen wait beside it in anticipation of filling our jar and our souls. The Calm Down Jar will be a glistening time-out of glitter and water for my girl and me to turn our handmade snowglobe and unwelcome moods upside down. The Money Jar and its mounting green will be my mind's landscape for an eventual trip to Europe or a slow, steady reminder of the value of discipline beyond the quick swipe of a card.
This year, I will refrain from the tempting peanut butter jar that leaves me scraping the bottom only to become empty.
- If a jar could make a difference in your life, what kind of jar would you have? With what would you fill it?
P.S. Dedicated to my sister Lisa, whose inspirational Zen poems and jars always open new possibilities.
The oozing lava from the chocolate cake slowed to a halt with one final bite lingering from the feeding frenzy of four forks. Surely, were we not stunned by the sugar or excitement beckoning us from outside the mountaintop bistro where my dear friend and our daughters would ski into the new year. Nor, were we simultaneously full from the rich, creamy taste. We were stopped by the unspoken etiquette of emptying the plate of its last tasty morsel, leaving three still-watering mouths.
The edible centerpiece presented an opportunity to share a dollop of wisdom from a boyfriend long ago, who meticulously scraped and sculpted the remains of delightful dishes to share them with me. "Always choose friends who will give you the last bite," I told our youngsters, prone to tear off Barbie's legs so both could play with her. I had ingested and savored his generosity since I behaved more like a seagull diving for the last french fry on a vacated beach.
Giving the last bite is a decision to loosen a reluctant grip to unselfishly look out for someone else. It extends beyond bite-size sacrifices of molten chocolate to daily decisions to make others' lives better. It is letting someone ahead of you in line when you are running late or setting aside your pride to say you are sorry. It is keeping Barbie intact and giving a friend the first turn. It is tickling my daughter's back when sleeping is all I want to do. Choosing friends who will give you the last bite starts with your willingness to do the same.
- Do you give or take the last bite?
Take the Last Bite Challenge! Order your favorite dessert (or other guilty pleasure) and offer someone the last bite. You will be the first to feel full. And, that takes the cake!
P.S. On my birthday, I always eat the last bite of my cherished lemon meringue pie. In life, there is always a balance of give and take, or you would never get a bite!
Dedicated to my daughter who wrapped 3 dollar bills and a gold dollar and gave them to me for Christmas. Her face beamed when she knew she had given from deep within her heart. And, yes, we were both full.
