If only there was a way to bottle it and take it home. If only the simple things that make life beautiful could somehow be captured and kept. What a powerful anecdote it could be.
If only…
Today, I am in Northern Michigan visiting my ninety-four year old Father-in-law, and celebrating three birthdays: my Mother-in-law’s, my wife’s and my own. I spent the entire day with my sixteen-year-old daughters. No plan. No agenda. We just walked around the beach town streets of Charlevoix, Michigan on a warm, breezy fall day. We ate lunch. We had ice cream. We fed fish in a pond. We looked for treasures along the shore and took selfies on the pier.
This is life. This is what matters.
How easily we get knocked off course. How frequently we let life beat us down, and so often with our full consent.
Life for Dad is one day at a time. His cup overflows with memories, for sure. But the present is all there is. It’s the same for you and me. The present. Ice cream. Fish. Treasures. Time.
God, show me a way. Teach me to close my hands and prevent the moments from slipping through my fingers. Help me, on the stormiest days, to recall the times when all that matters is all there was.
Help me to remember…THIS.
[x_share title=”Share this Post” facebook=”true” twitter=”true” google_plus=”true” linkedin=”true” email=”true”]
[subscribe2]
