I read this story a couple of years ago in the book “Mother Theresa In Her Own Words”
“I once picked up a small girl who was wandering the streets lost. Hunger was written all over her face. Who knows how long it had been since she had eaten anything? I offered her a piece of bread. The little one started eating it, crumb by crumb, I told her ‘Eat, Eat the bread! Aren’t you hungry?’
She looked at me and said ‘I am just afraid that when I run out of bread I will still be hungry.”
As I write this post I am on the third day of a month long working sabbatical, intentionally alone and far away from my family and home in Virginia. This time was carved out to focus on my fledgling business and work on pulling the pieces together into a cohesive package. It’s a space to renew, create and reflect on where I’ve been and where I’m going. It should go without saying that it’s also a significant investment of financial resources.
I think I can honestly say I have my fair share of celebrations, sadness, regrets, accomplishments and failures on which to ponder. Right now though I find myself driven by dreams of a “something bigger”. I’m searching for ways to make sense of it all, and to create a vehicle for sharing what I’ve learned thus far personally as well as professionally. But most of all I want to make a difference. (I can’t be the only person in my late fifties to feel a growing sense of urgency about this.)
Looking at the days stretched out in front of me I feel like a month is such a long time but then I’m afraid it won’t feel like long enough. I’m afraid that when this trip is over I’ll still be hungry for more time, like the little girl in the story. Hungry for something I had that’s now gone and in the past. I want to hang onto every moment and savor the sounds, sights, smells …. every single unique experience.
Have you had this feeling? During a special event or time, or even just as a growing sense of sadness as we start to age? That you’ll be left wanting more or that the best part of our life is somehow behind us? And how do we overcome it so we can value the moment we’re in, instead of sacrificing it to a fear and unease that takes us out of the present?
For me, I guess I need to truly believe that the experiences will become part of me and my continuing story … and in that way the time itself is transformed into a commodity that will never be gone. A few years ago, and in my darkest times, I could never have dreamed that I would be doing what I’m doing right now. I could not have dreamed big enough to imagine it. So even if my path forward seems unsure, or incomplete, I need to listen forever to that voice that tells me not to look back … that the best is ahead.
Dee