This morning I found the jar waiting for me — a surprise since my husband gave him the bath last night. For some reason these jars of water kind of bug me. It’s the sign that the bath hasn’t been completely cleaned up. It’s a sort of clutter I can do without. And, it hasn’t made much sense to me why he’s so adamant about this final step in his bath.
As I turned on the water for my own shower, I picked up the jar and prepared to pour out the water. Then I stopped. Really, what was the jar hurting? (Nothing.) What would I gain from leaving it there? (The thrill for my son that his water was still in the jar.)
That’s when it hit me. This jar of his? It’s full. And that’s how I want to approach life after 40…as though it’s a full jar. Not half-empty. Not half-full. But completely full.
If you’re looking at our bathroom anytime soon, you’ll find a full jar on the sill. Whatever you do, don’t dump it out.