Most of the time our days are compiled of small stuff. It's little moments from morning to night sandwiched tightly in between mugs of hot coffee at breakfast and sudsy baths at bedtime. Small little moments that if you stack them up together create something bigger and something beautiful and something altogether more grand.
But the thing is I usually miss them. I hurry past to get to the next little moment without realizing that those fleeting moments will be forever gone. My mom has this saying, "you won't pass this way again". She reminds me when I'm struggling with the boy's naps {that they have conspired to give up nearly completely} or complaining about lugging both boys through the grocery store. I get it though. It's good to pause. I think it's why I love photography; I get to capture a moment, something that means something to me, and freeze it forever.
Reading the chapter for our small group this week, I came across this quote {which I highlighted, underlined and dog eared the page}:
"The tiny snatches of time are often lost to us. These can and should be redeemed. They are times for inner quiet, for reorienting our lives like a compass needle. They are little moments that help us to be genuinely present where we are." {Celebration of Discipline; Richard J. Foster}
I know everyone says it, {and there are times I will time to pass quickly} but life is passing fast, sometimes at a breaknecking speed. I want to be "genuinely present" where I am and catch those tiny snatches before they are forever lost. So I've started to look for them. I tried to pause and take in the little moments. The little pieces and fragments that make up the bigger, beautiful picture. I like what I saw.
{Sunflowers at the grocery store.}
{Watering the garden one warm, sunlit night. Grow, seedlings, grow.}
{Races at sunset.}
{William playing in farmer Grandpa's barn.}
I find myself posting about this every once in a while; this idea of slowing down to enjoy and appreciate the beauty of life happening in the small moments swirling around me. I think it's the whole idea of needing to reorient my "inner compass needle". To take my focus off of the unknown and the stuff of little value.
{Robin's eggs that are back for a second time; just two this time. Can't ever get enough of that beautiful shade of blue.}
{Adrenaline pumping Gator rides.}
{Inventions: a bunk bed made out of a cleared off toy shelf. This happened while I was making lunch.}
{Henry pedaling his heart out to make this go-cart go.}
{William on a mower ride and his wispy blond wind blown hair.}
{Learning to pedal after a few pushes and lots of repetition; left, right, left, right, left.....}
{He did it! He learned to pedal his tricycle and beamed with the pride of a boy who is ready to go new places and see new things - on his own, but with us following closely behind him.}
I feel oriented and present. Thankful for these little moments and my chance to experience them.
