we headed out to share a favorite spot with friends, still early in the day, before the others were up and about. i was shivery and didn’t want to stay long; nor did our friends. we did a quick tour, and they headed out, on the road for their next destination.
the little boys begged to stay, and we weren’t layered enough, but for once i remembered to stop, to listen, to be in the moment.
they tumbled and rolled, leaped and climbed over the dunes, their laughter ringing through branches and across icy sand. one found a nest, long deserted for warmer times, and climbed to inspect its innards. they’d dressed themselves, and for once i didn’t worry about look, but used my camera to capture reality, in all its beauty, and appreciated it without reserve.
the quiet loomed large, with no one else to brave the frigid air, and it was a gift we shared in thankfulness when, their energy expended, they trudged through paths alongside my curious self. no other brothers or sister to compete for words, just the freedom to wander and explore and have me to themselves, not knowing the greater gift was mine, by far.
i’m reading stacks of books just now, and one this week challenges me to stop, to still myself, and to absorb the detail in the moment. i do this here, with the fine art of my own children as my object of study. i watch, and i make mental note of the wonder.
i’m never lacking appreciation for the gift of their smiles (in some seasons with others down the road, i wonder if the hormonal gloom of adolescence will ever give way to sunshine again)… though often i’m ashamed to admit, i don’t enough appreciate their very presence.
so today, i soak them in. i watch and i listen and i hold mittened hands. we run for the car, and crank the heat for all we can. i smell their joy, and i know thankful.
do you have moments of “keeping and pondering in your heart?” i’d love to be privy to your sharing below.
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