Love.

So in my flu fog of lying on the sofa napping on and off (which felt more like going in and out of consciousness), I heard something on one of the morning talk shows about love. I’m not sure what channel it was, what show it was, or exactly who said it, but the discussion was about measuring the success of your life in love.

Instead of how much money or fame you’ve accumulated as a barometer for success, how much love have you given and how much have you received would be a better way to measure the achievement of your life. This thought perked me up… if only for a moment. I jotted it down in my notebook and fell back to sleep. When I woke hours later (seriously, being sick stinks), I was still thinking about it... which also made me think of this little guy playing his heart out about... yes, love.

Naturally, as a kindergarten teacher, love is a currency exchanged daily. I get more notes and pictures that proclaim adoration for me than I can count. I’m told ‘I love you’ dozens, if not more, times a day. Beyond the concrete displays of love (hugs are numerous and heartfelt), the smiles I get (particularly from one little guy who would probably never say he loved me), just exude love.

I have to admit, I feel it back. Even during my worst moments, when my patience is dwindling, when if I hear ‘Mr. ______, Mr. _______, Mr. _______!’ one more time I think my head might pop off, even then, I still love my sprouts. Each and every one of them.

This love fest I encounter each day at school leads me to believe I’m doing quite well in life. I’m not famous and have zero interest in starring on a reality show. My bank account isn’t busting at the seams and probably never will. My love piggybank is busting at the seams though… color me successful.