Mom. She paid attention.
She was a quiet observer. My Momma didn't rush through anything. I always remember her taking her sweet time, whether it was getting ready to go or drinking in her environment. Wherever she was, she was fully present.
When she sipped her morning tea, she savored each swallow. She meandered in our yard, checking up on the cardinals or hoping to spot new buds on our bushes. She cherished moments like these and had many of them.
She told me, years ago, that I rushed around too much. Life back then was so busy for me. You know, intense job, kids with homework, and all of us with chores to do and places to be. I have an idea that she was afraid I was missing some of life's sweetest moments, that I needed to be careful, more intentional, that in all my busyness, those significant, tiny occasions that make up a complete, wonderful life might slip by me, unwatched, unappreciated.
That was a while ago.
I trust now that her words have sunk in, that she can look down upon me from heaven, if only for a moment, and get a glimpse of my life. She'd see how I've grown, her big, baby girl and how my children are all grown up now too. She'd see that it's them, now, who are doing the rushing around, kinda like I used to. But not exactly.
I believe that they are doing much better than I did. Maybe they learned from her too. The Big Things Are the Small Things, my kids are known to say. And they mean it. And I see them taking time and paying attention. Yes, they learned from my Momma.
Me? I'm the quiet one now, living slow, or slower than I used to, at least. The years have soothed me. Many days are filled with wonder and gratitude, especially when I'm looking. And listening. When I stop to see life bursting forth everywhere, in every season, I try to drink it in, just as Momma did.
I've noticed that the wildflowers move around the edge of our neighborhood wood with each season. The bees always find them wherever they go. Did you know how many kinds of moss grow right in my yard? So many varieties! My favorite is the verdant green kind that grows beneath the dogwood tree at the Northeast edge of my yard. There's a whole, soft blanket of it, fit for a queen! The big wide azalea bushes that I've wanted to cut back for several years now have developed the coolest pathway between them, perfect for going from the house to the side yard and a favorite place to play and hide for my grandchildren. And all our crazy blackberry vines that cover the ground behind our shed have fed the birds, and likely some snakes, while we only picked and ate a few this year. Mom's hydrangeas have come and gone this year yet again, a reminder of her everlasting presence in my life.
I'm still learning to hone the Art of Paying Attention, but Momma was my first teacher. She loved finding new wonders and old familiar beauty in nature but also in all kinds of unexpected places. She took time and didn't rush. She opened her eyes and her ears to the brilliance around her.
May we be observers for the sheer pleasure of witnessing life, not for any other reason but to see it, pause, and wonder. And be thankful.