Savouring the Moments

The symphony of birds, buds and blossoms along with the soft greens seem to sing, Springtime’s here; another season’s underway!  With the passing of time, the Lord is teaching me to savour the moments, to watch for the signs of the seasons.  I can’t really recall if , or what, I’ve written much about the passage of a season that taught me this, but it was the slow dawning of the reality that the childbearing season was slipping away that first began to teach me to savour the moments.

I think I’ve told you how (early on) women–mothers–would tell me, “…it goes so fast: before you know it, they’ll be all grown up…” and to those comments I would nod in agreement… as if I understood.  And, I suppose, to a small degree, I did.  Actually, truth be told, I didn’t.  Not really.  And, further, I recognize that I still don’t really know the whole of it.  But what I am realizing this:  time really does seem to pass exponentially faster with each passing year.

On Saturday morning I received a text message on my cellphone.  Three simple words.  Tears filled my eyes as I read and reread those three little words.  Those three little words were packed with such hope and elated joy.  I pictured the smiling face of the one who sent me the text.  I pictured the thrill that must’ve gone into the typing of the three little words.  I closed my phone — savouring the moment and what the three little words would become.  The text read:  She said yes.

Several of us received the same text.  We knew this by the flood of texts that followed.  It’s just what happens in a big family, I guess.

As I savoured the moment, I was grinning with tear-filled eyes.  Standing there, looking out the window above the kitchen sink, I was thinking about that son’s little boy self and how he ran and played out in the yard, roller skated down the lane, did ‘canon-balls’ in the pool, shot things with his airsoft gun and found things to light on fire in the back yard.  As I lingered, I thought of the several years he’s loved this girl… I thought of the many times she’s stood right in the same place, washing dishes or having a cup of coffee or tea in the kitchen.  I thought of her little girl self… her adorable little girl self.  And then, her parents came to mind and suddenly it wasn’t just our boy and bright hopes for tomorrow — it was their daughter and all the memories of her little girl self and times gone by in her life and theirs… many savoured moments, I’m very sure.

Later, walking around our yard and then standing under the lacy green leaves hanging from the giant weeping willow tree, I looked up to see where the branch had broken off — the branch that had, until just recently, held the old tire-swing.  I knew one day that that branch would break and the tire-swing would inevitably have to be put away or maybe even possibly would be hung on from different branch… I just never thought it would be this soon.  I looked at the branch on the ground and the place where the rope had been nearly completely encircled by the bark of the branch where it had hung for so many decades — the process unnoticed, but further embedded with each passing season.  In the theater of my mind, I saw some of the childhood faces of the many, many seasons of the tire swinging from that tree.  Savoured moments.  More so, now.

The interesting thing about savoured moments is that at the time the moments don’t seem all the glorious.  I sometimes think that savoured moments become so — not because of their impact or influence at the time, but later.  Silly things, embarrassing things, surprising things,  simple things, everyday things.  Later on… down the road a bit… that’s when moments become meaningful and it’s those meaningful moments we savour.  Those simple, everyday, unremarkable (at the time) moments that somehow capture our hearts and become the stuff memories are made of — the moments we treasure — the moments we savour.

In the last couple of days I’ve had more time to reflect on those three little words… I’ve thought of the inevitable hardships, trials, heartaches ans sorrows they’ll necessarily face.   I’ve thought of the memories they’ll make, the home they’ll make together — the joys and laughter they’ll experience and the hopes and dreams they’ll share; and I marveled at the thought of the surprising ways of God they’ll surely encounter as He writes their story.  And so for all these things, I can only say, Praise the LORD and pray they’ll savour the moments that come with the passing seasons along the way.