(My husband, Richard, sitting on the steps of our daughter's house as he awaits in the next room the arrival of his third grandchild, Eden. An ordinarly moment, a respite, as the extraordinary, a miracle was in progress. This picture always grabs my heart. 💞)
As I reflect upon memories I’m always intrigued by the ones which feel timeless, vivid and as if I could step right back into them. After listening to Amanda Doyle, in the podcast, We Can Do Hard Things, discuss this I was moved to do so as well.
My dad placing me on his broad shoulders so that my view looking through legs could become elevated to watch our annual Memorial Day parade.
My grandmother giving me a small basket to place the plump, and oh, so sweet and juicy cherry tomatoes that she had grown in her vegetable garden.
Grabbing onto my grandfather's leg as he mowed the long, green grass with a push mower.
Playing school and office with my sister, Carol, for hours on end.
Never needing to look anything up as I would just ask my brother, Rick, a walking encylopedia.
Glimpsing my mom slip into my other twin bed on the nights I was feverish and ill so that she could be close by in case I awakened afraid.
Dad encouraging me to jump off the pier into his outstretched arms without a life preserver on.
Our family dinners offering a time to look around the table at this family of mine, who made me feel safe and seen.
Bike hikes with my dad on the weekends especially in the fall when the leaves crumbled and crinkled under our tires.
Mom calling and speaking with the parents before I ever had a sleep over to make sure all was above board and that they were indeed expecting me.
Dad teaching me about the game of football so that I could be his football pal and I absolutely adore the game. My husband is forever grateful that this is something we can share now during the season.
This is just a sampling of some early memories that may seem ordinary, yet they are extraordinary for me in how each made me feel. Loved, safe, valued, a part of something so much greater than myself, a belonging.
Finding gratitude and comfort in noticing the most simple, yet exquisite details are what become the extraordinary. Having a first grader whisper in my ear what her book she is writing and illustrating is about because she wanted it to be a surprise for her class mates. Little hands brushing my hair away from my ear to whisper, “It’s about my cat.” Does it get any better than this?
I am offering a sampling of what might appear from the outside looking in as quite ordinary. Yet, from my vantage point, they are the luminous and shimmering threads of the ordinary, alchemizing into the extraordinary and filling me with an insatiable gladness and lightness of heart.
The longing and contemplation in this pic 💜. Also another gratitude memory exercise for me to try