The Gift of This Moment
I used to wish through entire seasons at a time.
As a college student, I missed those first delicate buds of spring because I was wishing my way through final exams and dreaming of summer break. As a new teacher, I missed autumn’s quiet glory as I wished myself through the arduous first months of each school year and longed for the winter days when my classroom would settle into a peaceful rhythm.
When I traded my classroom for a cluttered apartment strewn with baby toys, I missed seasons of frosty beauty while quieting the cries of restless toddlers and grumbling about winter’s endless reign. Even as my children grew, I missed entire years of milestones while wishing away my husband’s medical training and dreaming of the day we would trade welfare checks for a pay check.
Then one crisp morning in April, I watched my firstborn race across the spring green a bony tangle of arms and legs. His face was set like flint. Lines of sheer determination furrowed his brow as he competed against an invisible opponent in a backyard derby. The intensity in his eyes rattled me awake and I wondered when he’d grown from baby to boy.
I stared long, trying to capture a memory from years gone by. Any memory The smell of his soft baby skin or the sound of his newborn suckling. The way his cowlick stood tall when he rolled out of bed each morning, tattered blankie in hand. Or the sparkle in his four-year-old baby blues when he told his “homemade jokes” at the dinner table.
I reached back through the seasons and years and I couldn’t catch a single image long enough to polish it with gratitude and hold it in my heart.
Those were the moments I’d wished through. Rushed through. Survived.
I spent my first decade of motherhood traveling fast with one eye on today and another on tomorrow.
Dreaming of miracles that could speed the hands of time, I’d looked right past the gift of time.
I wished through dark nights in the rocking chair with babies curled snug in my arms. Wished through endless bath times and bed times, quiet times and play times. I wished through toddler tantrums and sandbox sagas, through potty training and nap wars. Wished through hopscotch games and hide and seek, through board books and play doh.
I couldn’t see it, of course, the way my neck craning toward tomorrow was cheating me of today. Couldn’t see how all the impatient wishing was bankrupting my soul.
How fixing my gaze on what was to come was leaving me blind to what was here and now—Lavish grace for the moment , a thousand sparkling jewels of joy tucked quietly in the days and hours and minutes beneath my feet.
But on that ordinary April day, my Savior who makes the lame to walk and the blind to see offered me lavish love. “Open your eyes and look at all this glory!” he beckoned.
And for the first time I saw it in those tangled legs and gangly gait. In the green grass bowing beneath my firstborn’s sneakered feet.
Unlike the blind man who cried out to Jesuson the road to Jericho, I didn’t gain my sight all at once. But bit by bit and prayer by prayer, the blur that had been my life began to take shape with striking clarity. In the mud of the moment, in the tantrums and tattles, in the hollering and hoping, I began to spot beauty. Grand blooms of grace and deep roots of peace. Dew drops of wonder and trickling streams of delight. The more clearly I saw, the more I longed to step fully into the moments and hold them with awe.
Instead of wishing away time, I suddenly wanted to slow it down. For there, in the tiny shards of life, I discovered what I’d been wishing for all along.
When I live fully in the now, I came face to face with the I Am. In every minute, in every slice of life, He is there, just as He’s promised to be. There, living up to His name and inviting me to drink deep from His abundance. I Am your heart’s desire, He reminds me when I focus my attention on the heartbeat of the moment.
I am the fullness of time yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I Am what you’re wildest wish come true.
I’ve often longed to recover the blur of seasons smudged sadly across my memory, but just as wishing never quickens the hours, neither can it recapture them.Maybe that’s why on Saturday morning when dawn plodded heavy and gray, I chose not dream of blue.
And when that somber sky birthed wet and wild snow, I chose not to yearn for spring.
And when my little one beckoned me to come and see what flavor the snowflakes are, I dropped my dishrag and stepped into the waltzing wind.
Though I had to shield my eyes from the slapping snow, my vision was 20/20.
Glory spun all around me on six-point crystals. Head craned toward Heaven, I welcomed the moment with an unhurried heart and an outstretched tongue.
A gift of grace. The gift of NOW.
The Overflow: This is the day the LORD has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.
–Psalm 118:24
Counting to 1000 Gifts! Thankful for the grace of all these moments…
752. Wet white snowflakes begging to be scooped
753. My baby dancing with the snowflakes on the deck
754. My first born trying to dissuade his little brother’s tears with a piggy back ride
755. Maggie bundled in pink, soaring down the hill on a red sled
756. Leaving snow angels in the neighbor’s yard
757. Piles growing for Honduras
Counting to 1000 Gifts! Thankful for the grace of all these moments…
752. Wet white snowflakes begging to be scooped
753. My baby dancing with the snowflakes on the deck
754. My first born trying to dissuade his little brother’s tears with a piggy back ride
755. Maggie bundled in pink, soaring down the hill on a red sled
756. Leaving snow angels in the neighbor’s yard
757. Piles growing for Honduras
I clicked on this story on accident…but boy did it speak to me big time! I had tears streaming down my face because I can soooo relate. I have spent much of my life wishing through things, hurrying, being “too busy” to stop and enjoy a moment. I have 7 kids and I too can’t remember things that I should, I don’t remember because I was rushing through, wishing time would speed up. My oldest son is nearly 20 now, and now I think where in the world did the time go! Slow down and enjoy the now…once it’s gone you can’t get it back. Excellent article Alicia 🙂 thank you.
Oh, this spoke to me so much, Alicia! What a beautiful and inspirational story of learning to live fully in the moment. You really captured this so well. Thank you!
I love this post. I am so convicted about straining to look down the road and missing what is all around me. Very thought provoking.
Such a beautiful post. And those photos… she is adorable! #754 oh what precious brother love that is. Wonderful gifts!
Sweet pics and a beautiful list. Thanks for sharing
Thank you! As a mom in her first 3 years of mothering… I need to hear this… everyday… gonna go snuggle my littles now…
Those pictures are so precious…I could almost taste the snow with her! 🙂
We have missed the snow…although you guys haven’t had much either!
I want life to SLOW way down!!!! I am ready for the NOW!
I wish I had a set of Life Brakes!