Fractions and Percents
Today I am grateful for the experience of seeing nature and a robin do what nature and a robin do. I watched a mama robin, from a few feet away, snag a worm from the dirt and grass of our yard, feed herself a portion of it, and then take the rest to her babies in the nest we have been observing in recent weeks.
As I sometimes do on a run, yesterday I found myself tracking progress via fractions and percents. Five minutes into my planned hour-long run, I was 1/12 of the way done already. It wasn't long before I was 25% done, then 50%. I don't dwell on the numbers. My thoughts and strides took me plenty of places. But they help me keep moving forward.
A runner moving through a run, a stride at a time, small fractions covered with each step, eventually putting the miles behind her. A mother robin taking a whole worm and making a meal for at least three mouths out of it.
Fractions and percents can define and describe so much. It is almost a year now since my sister Mary Jo died of metastatic breast cancer. The percentage of days I have thought about her this last year is 100. Some days the thoughts were fleeting and peaceful, on others the grief was a painful slog.
There are also daily statistics and percentages in the news about the COVID-19 pandemic toll and also the toll of systemic racism. The numbers can paralyze us or catalyze us.
You and I are each miniscule fractions of humanity. The gratefulness I can feel and express on a given day is but a tiny percentage of what is available. Yet, we each matter and every expression of appreciation matters. Tremendously and profoundly.
As I sometimes do on a run, yesterday I found myself tracking progress via fractions and percents. Five minutes into my planned hour-long run, I was 1/12 of the way done already. It wasn't long before I was 25% done, then 50%. I don't dwell on the numbers. My thoughts and strides took me plenty of places. But they help me keep moving forward.
A runner moving through a run, a stride at a time, small fractions covered with each step, eventually putting the miles behind her. A mother robin taking a whole worm and making a meal for at least three mouths out of it.
Fractions and percents can define and describe so much. It is almost a year now since my sister Mary Jo died of metastatic breast cancer. The percentage of days I have thought about her this last year is 100. Some days the thoughts were fleeting and peaceful, on others the grief was a painful slog.
There are also daily statistics and percentages in the news about the COVID-19 pandemic toll and also the toll of systemic racism. The numbers can paralyze us or catalyze us.
You and I are each miniscule fractions of humanity. The gratefulness I can feel and express on a given day is but a tiny percentage of what is available. Yet, we each matter and every expression of appreciation matters. Tremendously and profoundly.
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