“Maggie, your sparkly shirt looks so pretty this morning.”
She climbed over the chest at the end of our bed, the morning sun reflecting off the sequins on her pink t-shirt. Her face beamed slightly, disguising a little smile.
“YOU look so pretty this morning, Maggie,” I changed my compliment after seeing her little smile peek through.
She didn’t respond. She just snuggled in next to me for about sixty seconds. Then it was off to the races, demanding we stop drinking coffee and get up, get going, and get her to school on time. This is how Maggie does mornings. Full hilt, full steam ahead from the minute her eyes pop open.
I drove her to school (while sipping coffee and trying to match her energy level by 50%). She must have been feeling extra loving and only half as preteenish this morning because she let me walk her to the door (gasp).
I left feeling especially mom-rad. I hummed a little tune in the Buzzardmobile (my old Kia Sorento which a buzzard careened into on the interstate a few years ago). I suddenly heard a song on the radio which instantly reminded me of someone I missed terribly, and a tear ran down my cheek unexpectedly. I’d been feeling deep longing, not just for this person, but regarding loss and grief lately.
Suddenly I noticed a spinny truck next to me–a concrete mixer. If you’ve been reading my blog posts for long, you probably know I’m obsessed with spinny trucks. I knew God had placed that truck right there right then just for me. Just for 30 seconds at that red light. It was my beautiful moment for that hour.
The previous hour, it had been Maggie holding my hand for five seconds in front of everyone at school.
The hour before, it was the tiny smile spreading across her face while she climbed into my bed.
And now the spinny truck God sent to me, just to remind me He was there. He knows. He loves me still.
I started thinking about how much richer my life would be if I started charting and journaling about the most beautiful moment of each hour. Don’t we spend enough time dwelling on the three worst things people do to us each day? The catastrophes of our lives? The mistakes we make? The losses?
Maybe you don’t. I do. I have.
I don’t really want to spend my life that way anymore. I’m opting for beauty on the hour instead. It’s there. I just forget to look for it sometimes. I forget to make note of it. If I jot it down, though, I’m more likely to remember to look for it the next hour. And the next.
Then I’ll remember to share it with you. And you’ll remember to look for it in your life. Then God gets the glory for giving it to us.
Pretty sure that’s how it’s supposed to work :).
Let’s start seeking.