Beautiful

                        

I could hear the squeak of the storm door back and forth.

"Mommy, come on!" Ella said, as she stood holding the screen door open for me. She was ever-so-impatient as I stopped on our walkway to gaze at the beautiful scene above me.

"Give me a minute, honey," I told her. "I want to take a quick picture of the sky. Did you see how it looks this morning?"

Katie joined 5th grade band this year, so two days a week we have to get up extra early and drive her to our local junior high, where the whole band gathers for a lesson before school. She is learning the clarinet, and I am so happy she has decided to participate. I am so proud of her. I don't mind getting out of the house early and driving her. Getting an early start on these days often gives me the opportunity to catch a glimpse of some amazing sunrises, like today. 

Ella closed the screen door, walked back to where I was standing, and turned to look up at the dancing colors. 

"Wow, that sure looks pretty," she said. 

"I know," I agreed. "I just want to enjoy it a minute longer," I told her, knowing very well that it would quickly change in minutes. 

We stood there, side by side, taking it in. I could have stood there for hours.

"Ok, hon," I said, just when I thought we had enough. "Let's go inside."

"Just a sec, Mom," she said. "How do I look? Do you see the sun on my face?" 

I turned to glance down at this sweet little soul, and found her facing the sky with her eyes shut. 

"What are you doing, El? Why are your eyes closed?" I asked. "You're missing the view."

"I just want to see how it feels," she answered. 

"Well. . . " I said, after a few second passed. "How does it feel?" 

"Beautiful," she answered, with her eyes still closed. "It feels beautiful."

Ah, how I absolutely love this moment.

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself questioning what I am doing with my life. These thoughts often surface after I've finished selling my art at a craft show. All the work, the hours, and the energy that goes into preparing for a show . . . it is physically and mentally exhausting. Then self-doubt sets in. Do people like my work?  Do people really like my work? And . . . why do I care? I always said that the work I do and the words that I write is for my daughters. If God ever decided it was time for me to leave this place, my girls would always have my words and messages in their life. And if I'm lucky, some other people will be touched by my work and want it in their lives, too. 

Sometimes I wonder if my girls get it. Do they feel it? Do they hear the lessons I share? Do they know that life is so much more than what is right in front of them?

Today, Ella . . . in her sweet six year old way . . . confirmed that she does. She gets it. She hears it. She feels it, too.

And that is beautiful. 

Wishing you beautiful moments, my friends. 

Peace.