I sat in our playroom last night having a tea party with my two-year-old. I was thinking that I'd rather have been on the couch with the husband watching football or should have been upstairs folding the towels and putting clean sheets on the bed. But I realized that "oh my gosh! I'm having a tea party with my DAUGHTER! The one I prayed for and cried over and struggled to bring into this world." So, I asked for another cup of tea and maybe a cookie to go with it.
I'm always so worried we are missing out on things. That our life isn't full enough of big adventures and big memories. I worry about my 11-year-old during our days at home. I sometimes fall into that trap of thinking he is missing something since he isn't in school. He's happy, healthy, smart and loving. He's so good and kind.
I'm beginning to realize that our life isn't lived in those big moments. True living may not always be in those big adventures. Life is found in the small moments. The small joys. It's 4 people snuggled in a bed on a weekend morning have a wrestling match. It is the last dandelion bouquet from grubby toddler hands sitting in a glass of water on my counter. Just when my boy stopped picking me dandelions, he passed his task on to his little sister. Showing her how to pick the flowers and carry them into Mommy. It's the smell of fall on the breeze, supper in the oven, and a family that hugs.
Small moments. Not grand adventures. Something I need to remember a lot more often.
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