The sun kissed the cold damp ground creating mist to rise off the grass. The river near by flowed easily, mountains surrounding us gazed upon the stream of water as it trickled down the mountainside. It was tranquil and still. The noise of the world was far away and I was with the four souls I love most of all. I felt content. Full. My kids were bare foot, muddy and enjoying the great outdoors.
Eighteen months ago, the Pastor I call Husband and I sat in our little country kitchen in the south end of Ontario Canada, listening to Sunny’s case worker deliver the news of the assessments that had taken place only weeks before. We talked about numbers and percentages and what was normal and the he was not– this caring woman made time to listen to my husband, whose eyes welled with tears “I’m ok with him being Intellectually Disabled- he’s my son and I love him, but I just wish I could teach him how to ride a bike like all the other kids his age so he can…” There was a pause “relate somehow.”
His eyes found the table that we were sitting at, he looked down and I could see his heart cracked, just a bit.
Grief is never wrong and is expressed in different ways as we come to terms with loss. What may seem ludicrous to the world always makes sense to the emotions being felt by the individual. I saw a father wanting to invest into his son, teach him about life and figuring out a new way to do that.
Fast forward to this past weekend, back to the mountains and my three bare feet children. Sunny was sitting on his big black bike with training wheels and his daddy was teaching him how to ride his bike. That conversation in the kitchen eighteen months ago went through my mind, and I grinned from ear to ear as I reminded the Pastor just how far our little guy has come.
There have been other huge mile stones recently, cutting paper with scissors for the first time. Small in the schemes of things, but not to his classroom Teacher who ran out to greet me after school smiling big, she held her cell phone proudly while showing me the recording of the ‘big moment.’ My mom shared the occasion too, she wept and I lost all my words…
Are you able to see the small things in your life and celebrate them along the way?
It’s so easy for us to look into the future, to focus upon the things that have not yet been achieved or come to fruition and miss the opportunity to give thanks along the way.
Small moments where God shows us that He is indeed big and cares deeply for His daughters– Everyday He gives us gifts. We just have to choose to see them.
As we see the small celebrations a shift in our heart takes place, for what we are doing, essentially, is giving thanks and living in gratitude.
Seeing, celebrating and thanking…
Taking time to slow down and live in the moment, to fully engage and to be present. Taking time to breathe deep, to open our eyes to the gifts, the small gifts as they unfold before us.
Seeing the small presents will remind us that God’s presence is always there– for He is in every good gift that we receive in life.
Noticing Him in our day-to-day life will fill our soul, and when our soul is filled with God’s joy, then we live differently, wholeheartedly. We burst with His goodness and we overflow with thanksgiving.
And a heart overflowing with praise and gratitude is so obvious to our world who often forgets to say “Thank you” to the small. Our faith in Jesus becomes more evident and we shine His light.
There are gifts to be seen everday, we decide whether or not we receive them.