Deja Vu: Life with Boys and Repetition
Today I experienced a serious case of deja vu. I was working at my computer, having spent the day with the hubby looking for a building for our next venture, when he walks in and sets some library books on my desk.
The one on top sent a shiver up my spine. “I’ve been here before,” I thought. It didn’t have anything to do with the book, but instead with the moment.
Later, I was telling a friend about the experience. It dawned on me during the telling how today had been one of those days when I had stayed on track. It was a good day. I stayed focused. I got a lot done.
Defining Deja Vu
Maybe deja vu isn’t some strange “psychic” thing. Instead, it is just the spirit man and the physical man finally catching up and making a connection. It could be a confirmation you are exactly where God wants you to be right at that moment – or at least where He has been preparing you to be.
It makes me smile.
Just the thought of being on the right path is enough to get me motivated and excited all over again. It makes me want to climb Mt. Everest or swim the ocean or just tackle the clutter in the living room. Knowing that I’m doing good makes me want to do better.
In other words, the more I do the more I want to do. Which is the exact opposite of how I feel when I look at a stack of dirty dishes in the sink.
Feelings of accomplishment fuel motivation.
Now I’ve been hit with a second realization.
If success feels this good to me, I bet it feels this good to my children and my husband. If I set them up to finish the tasks that I ask them to accomplish, then praise them for their effort and outcome, the positive forces will move to do more, better, without being asked. Mom will finally be able to take the long bubble bath after dinner instead of washing the dishes.
On second thought, maybe that first flash wasn’t deja vu after all. It could be that I got a whiff of too much cleaning fluid, and I’ve just been delusional all this time. Ha! Boys cleaning without being told – had to have been a dream.
I think it was the cleaning fluid. Boys don’t clean anything unless you drag them by the ears and stand over them. I know, because I was a boy once. Come to think of it, I still am.