Curiosity
The Call: Moving Parts — Cheryl
When I think of the adage, “Curiosity killed the cat,” I don’t often think it applies to me. “Caution saved the mouse” would be a better motto in my case. But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious. It’s just that my curiosity manifests itself in ways that are generally mundane. If an analytical nature can be said to be a curious nature, then put a check mark next to my name.
I like to think that I have few control issues: most have been scraped away by 16 years of parenthood and decades of growing in faith. I can usually handle what life throws my way, with one caveat: I need to understand how I got to the point I’m at. That is the analysis/curiosity part and it sometimes threatens to drive me crazy. If I have a headache, I want to know exactly what triggered it. An anxiety attack can’t simply be the result of stress; there has to be more to it than that. If someone compliments me, criticizes me, or just says, “Hello,” I wonder what I did to deserve the attention.
It’s not all bad. My curiosity has filled my life with books, has led me to homeschool my kids, and keeps me exploring creatively.
The Respones: Assorted Weirdness — Jessica
Why are the sausage biscuits at the bottom of the stairs? Why is there a teaspoon at the front door? In my house I’ve learned the answer is usually because of the two-year old. And after living with two-year olds for over fifteen years, well, let’s just say that we have a whole lot of war stories. Plenty of ammunition for wedding toasts too!
But I have to say, even after all these years, our curiosity isn’t diminished. We still ask why. Unfortunately the answer isn’t all that satisfying and typically leaves us shaking our heads.