The little things... Thanksgiving, part 2

We're so often reminded to savor the little things, the quiet things, the things we so easily take for granted and neglect. It's hard to make the time, but so necessary and refreshing when we do.

Celebrating thanksgiving yesterday, I was surprisingly and refreshingly conscious of a "little thing" - literally and figuratively. My niece, a toddler (she's little!) has been a source of so much joy over the last couple of years, but she has also been a source of greater understanding and a frequent reminder stop and enjoy, to pause instead of overlook.

First, a little history; this little girl is the daughter of my youngest sister .. (though our relationship sometimes seems more like parent and child than sister and sister.) I had the privilege of watching this little one make her dramatic entrance into the world, and it was one of those enriching experiences that stays frozen in our memories for a long time afterward. There were some complications right at the end of delivery, and for days after I was in a daze of wondering "did that really happen?" and realizing just how delicate and precious life is. She came close to not having life, maybe that is why she is often such a wonder and joy to me.

Fast forward to a few months ago, I was making mad preparations to move away from the same city as my sweet niece, one night she had a sleepover at our house. Instead of being sleepy at about 10pm, she was a chatterbox, so we had a great little visit; she showed me her eyes, nose and ears, pointed out the window at the lights next door, showed off the animal sounds she knew, and caressed my face in that wonderful toddler-fist kind of way. I was so blessed by those moments with her, I felt renewed for days afterward in the midst of many tasks.

Yesterday morning in church, I had the chance to stand and sing worship songs with her in my arms - poignant because this is what I did on so many Sundays while we went to the same church - and she graciously allowed me this treat with more chatterbox antics, request for "mo, mo, mo" when the band stopped playing, and little fists wiping away auntie's sentimental tears.

I don't know why its so easy for me to be an over-looker, so busy chasing my own tail and missing out on much wonder and tranquility in the little, quiet things ... but I want to get better at pausing.