One Moment
My sister told me on the phone today that there was a moment this week when she and her kids were coming home, their hands full of wildflowers they had picked, her eldest son racing down the hill on his scooter, when she just wanted to slow down and grab hold of the memory with both hands so that she wouldn't forget how perfect it was.
Isn't it interesting how those moments happen in the middle of the mundane, and if we're not careful, we miss them?
There's something about them--the quality of the light, the way the air holds its breath, the stillness between seconds--and we try to take a picture with our minds so that we can hold onto the moment, remember its every detail, replicate it in our mind even years from now.
We won't be able to. Memory is fickle, and we know that. And the very fact that these perfect moments happen in the middle of our every day makes them that much harder to grasp.
It's one moment, maybe a glancing smile exchanged with my husband while the kids laugh around the dinner table, maybe pudgy arms wrapped around my neck accompanied by a tiny kiss on my cheek, maybe my hand reaching down to pet the dog in the middle of the night--and I squeeze my eyes shut and try to memorize everything about it, knowing that tomorrow it will be blown off into the wind like dandelion fluff.
Finally, I just give thanks and pray that God will help me remember. Because I know that the things that make a life are not the Pinterest moments or the well-planned birthdays or the perfectly executed vacations (not that there is anything wrong with those things). A life is made up of a string of moments, one after another after another.
I brush the hair off of sleeping eyelashes. One moment.
I read as the sun sets, an arm around each boy. One moment.
I push the swing higher to the music of shrieking giggles. One moment.
I hold the Man's hand while we drive. One moment.
Tomorrow there will be new moments to replace them--some good, some not so good. I say thank you. And remember...as best as I possibly can.
Isn't it interesting how those moments happen in the middle of the mundane, and if we're not careful, we miss them?
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| Last day of first grade...or kindergarten...we aren't quite sure. |
There's something about them--the quality of the light, the way the air holds its breath, the stillness between seconds--and we try to take a picture with our minds so that we can hold onto the moment, remember its every detail, replicate it in our mind even years from now.
We won't be able to. Memory is fickle, and we know that. And the very fact that these perfect moments happen in the middle of our every day makes them that much harder to grasp.
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| This kid... |
Finally, I just give thanks and pray that God will help me remember. Because I know that the things that make a life are not the Pinterest moments or the well-planned birthdays or the perfectly executed vacations (not that there is anything wrong with those things). A life is made up of a string of moments, one after another after another.
I read as the sun sets, an arm around each boy. One moment.
I push the swing higher to the music of shrieking giggles. One moment.
I hold the Man's hand while we drive. One moment.
Tomorrow there will be new moments to replace them--some good, some not so good. I say thank you. And remember...as best as I possibly can.
