My son Emmett is sitting about three feet away from me on the garage floor, carving up a pumpkin.
He’s never carved a pumpkin before. At least not to this degree. So I’m here, half making sure he doesn’t lose a finger, half listening to his thoughts and observations.
If there’s one thing parents (myself included) too often do, it’s miss the small moments while anticipating the bigger ones. We plan vacations, schedule sporting events, plot timelines—while forgetting to sit down with our juniors as they carve out pumpkins. We wake up, wake them up, make them breakfast, hurry them off the school, get work done, pick them up, get them a snack, open up their homework, make dinner, have them shower, put them to bed. Rush and rush and rush and rush and rush.
Well, I’m trying to slow it all down. I can’t stop time, or even hold up time. But I can share in the moments; the seconds. I can engage and be present.
It’s not easy.
But it’s vital.