It happened tonight.
Amidst the smell of a pumpkin spice candle and freshly baked apple pie. The sounds of Frank Sinatra filled the background while I quietly try to explain to my daughter what ‘crooning’ is.
I dried the supper dishes while Husband read the newspaper at the table and Daughter danced around with a blanket over her shoulders as a pretend cape.
And I stopped. Stopped mid-dish to just watch. To give her the moment she wanted. My attention. My eyes on hers as she danced to her hearts content.
And I saw it – in her face. The same look I remember when this almost-9-year-old was only 4. Dancing with the same hope of attention and probably receiving more of it than she does now.
So I watched. And she danced. With pleasure and a smile.
And I put down the dish towel and joined her. Dancing together – and spinning – and dipping. I enjoyed the moment. I let it wash over me and allowed myself to revel in it.
I headed back to the dishes as Daddy joined Daughter in a little dance. Not a graceful one that you would see in the movies, but an awkward, fun dance full of extra long dips and arm-twisting spins. And full of laughter.
So I put the towel down again, and joined Husband – just for a moment or two, but something I’ve always wanted to do. And it was fun!
I could scarcely believe it was my life.
And then I messed it up.
Daughter wanted to play hide-and-seek. Mother wanted her to finish reading a book for school. A clashing of wills. An argument. Attitude – on both sides.
The moment was shattered.
How will I ever learn this thing? This love? This joy of living in the moment?
And after a few calming breaths and a prayer, I went to her room. We hugged and apologized to each other – and it was done. Forgiveness. Mercy. Grace.
So thankful for the Father who models this for us. Who gives us the courage and the strength to seek Him out and act according to His ways.
So it was mended. Repaired. We held hands and continued to enjoy living in the moment.