Early one Sunday morning, my daughter was cutting and pasting from a magazine as part of her second-grade homework assignment. She was singing, making up the words as she went along. She really caught my attention as she sang the words, "I'm doing what I was born to do."
"What a beautiful song," I said. "So what were you born to do?"
She paused for just a brief moment, then looked at me with a grin and said, "To be a kid." How do we stop fighting for our survival and get back to thriving? How do we return to that sense of knowing that all...
..". and a little child shall lead them"
Early one Sunday morning, my daughter was cutting and pasting from a magazine as part of her second-gra...
Early one Sunday morning, my daughter was cutting and pasting from a magazine as part of her second-grade homework assignment. She was singing, making up the words as she went along. She really caught my attention as she sang the words, "I'm doing what I was born to do."
"What a beautiful song," I said. "So what were you born to do?"
She paused for just a brief moment, then looked at me with a grin and said, "To be a kid." How do we stop fighting for our survival and get back to thriving? How do we return to that sense of knowing that all...
..". and a little child shall lead them"
Early one Sunday morning, my daughter was cutting and pasting from a magazine as part of her second-gra...
