The little things

If there is one thing I hope to accomplish as a parent it’s for my children to notice, appreciate, and enjoy the little things.  When I was a kid we went on family vacations every summer, many of which involved long car rides.  This was of course in the days before cell phones, tablets, in-car DVD players, or portable electronics in general.  My brother and I had the old fashioned Auto Bingo game to keep us busy, and we read a lot.  But most of all, I remember spending a lot of time just looking out the window.  I loved to look at the trees, often eagerly waiting the landsape to change to the tall straight pines of the Northwoods, which are still a personal favorite. 

 

There was one type of tree with small rounded leaves that would reflect the sun in such a way that the whole tree looked like a collection of shimmering jewels.  The leaves danced in the wind, and I remember thinking that the tree just looked, well, happy.  I decided that if I could be a tree, that is the type I would choose.  To this day I don’t know what kind of tree that is, but I do habitually look for it along the highway when I’m riding in the car. 

That simple memory is one that was impactful enough to stick with me all these years, and one that still makes me happy.  On car rides today, when my son gets bored in the backseat or starts to ask how much longer it will be until we get there, I encourage him to look out the window.  If it’s daytime, tell me what the clouds look like, or yes, notice the trees.  If it’s nighttime, imagine what all those lights and buildings are in the distance or look up and enjoy the stars and the moon.

 

I’m not so much deliberately trying to teach my children anything as I am just enjoying experiencing these things myself and embracing the fact that little things really are the big things to me.  Yesterday I took my kids for a walk, and I was so happy when my son asked me about the seeds on the sidewalk that had fallen from a maple tree.  I was downright giddy to explain to him that these were called “helicopters” and then to demonstrate what happens when you throw them in the air.  He was giddy as well, watching in awe as it whirled to the ground and eagerly picking one up for himself.  If there is anything greater than witnessing a child discover something that we take for granted, I have yet to find it.  Those little humans are notorious for re-setting your perspective.

I deliberately pick out the “ugly” vegetables at the Farmer’s Market so we can laugh together over the carrots that are hugging each other or the green pepper shaped like a hook.  I delight in planting flowers with my kids, and explaining how things grow.  Rainbows, individual snowflakes, feeling a cool breeze on a warm day.  Strawberries that drip down your chin in June, sweet corn on the cob in July, and a sun-ripened watermelon in August.  Going so high on the swingset that you think you can touch the trees.  The warm feeling of hot chocolate filling your tummy after spending hours in the snow making a fort.  These are the things I want to mark my children’s memories as they have mine.

 

Nothing makes me happier than when my son excitedly tells me to look at a dragon-shaped white puffy cloud or randomly asks me to confirm his understanding of how potatoes grow.  Tonight as we were going upstairs to get ready for bed we noticed the pink and orange colors in the sky, and he said to me, “Mommy, I want to pray about the pretty sunset tonight because I want to thank God for giving it to us.”  And then I melted.  Because for all of the times I fall short as a parent, if my son notices a sunset I must be doing some little thing right.  And really, it’s the little things that matter.