I’ve been working on a deliberate little plan this summer and early fall. It’s been just kind of a sweet, simple experiment.
Earlier this year, my daughter and I were talking about how fast time goes…like how just a few days ago she was a little blonde-headed cutie who absolutely loved the Lion King movie (even though she was afraid of Rafiki), but here all of a sudden she has her own little girl and that original Lion King movie is a quarter century old.
How in the world?!
This doesn’t seem right. I’m starting to identify with my own mother; when I came home from college one weekend years ago she caught me in her sunny kitchen rummaging around in the refrigerator. She hugged me tight, mentioned how grown-up I seemed, and then hugged me again. Tighter this time. And she held on longer. I caught myself doing that very thing just a few days ago.
In any case, my daughter told me something during that conversation that really stuck. She said she wants to “be present, not passing” as she moves through her days as a wife and momma.
I just love that. And I’ve tried to carry that wisdom forward these past few months.
In tangible ways I’ve made an effort to be deliberately aware of where I find myself every day. To show up in my own story, so to speak.
I’ve taken the back-country roads instead of the highway when going to visit my sister on a sunny Saturday in early May. I opened the windows to my Jeep, and drove a little slower, letting in all the beauty of an afternoon in the country.
I’ve cuddled up with sleepy little Bella in our comfy rocking chair…listening to Lilly James’ version of “Lavender’s Blue” on endless repeat. Those drowsy moments with her little warm self curled up next to me and her tiny hand holding my fingers are priceless. Doubly so because they remind me of when her momma was tiny and did the same thing.
A month or two ago when we were in Florida, I sat on the beach with friends and just listened to the waves. It was so much fun – with the warm sun on my face – to fully experience something there that I can’t experience here in Kansas. Soft white sand, waves, seagulls. It was so, so good.
I’ve shared time with my girls and listened intently as they talked about their plans and hopes and all of the things so close to their hearts. Watch the eyes of the people you love while they talk to you, friends. It’s amazing the emotion they add to the story you’re hearing – a depth that words don’t have the power to convey. What a gift conversation is with the people you love.
It may sound funny, but I’ve tried to do this even with the more mundane; like taking in the gratitude of folding laundry because I know and love the people who will wear the shirts or use the towels.
Or the simple act of waving at my neighbor who is out walking his dogs almost every morning as I leave for work.
My drive to work.
My trip to the grocery store where the bakery lady is always so kind.
Keeping my house.
The familiar face of a colleague coming into my office.
Tossing the ball for Abbie and watching that funny retriever smile on her inquisitive face.
Living with this attitude takes practice. But doing it teaches me repeated lessons on living with gratitude. And it fuels a deepening desire to be fully alive and awake and aware as I go about my day. To actually live my life, not just go through the motions of living my life.
Present, not passing.
I think my sweet girl is on to something.