I was home alone with my son yesterday. We both were feeling under the weather so while my husband took the kids out with their grandparents, he and I rested at home. I was sitting in my sewing room starting another project as he knelt beside me. The door behind us was open, letting the Texas spring sweep into our home. I looked up to see him staring out the door.
“Mommy, one of the trees looks like summer is coming.”
And then he got up and disappeared outside. A few moments later, he came running back inside, his hands gently clasping something. He stood in front of me and opened his hands.
“See? Old and new. Brown and green.”
He placed them in my open palms.
Giving and receiving.
I gently laid the brown and green leaves on the white fabric spread in front of me and we stared in silence. It is true. Summer is coming. Winter is leaving.
I think children can teach us so much in these seemingly insignificant moments. And for a deep thinker like me, these moments are ripe with lessons. There is a constant dying away and new growth in life. There is a letting go and a taking in. An end and a beginning always happening.
But, as I sat staring at the leaves in front of me, I was simply grateful. Grateful for the reminder from my son that beginnings are never done, and ends aren’t always bad. I’m grateful for the sharing of this thoughts at any given moment in my busy day. They serve as a constant reminder to slow down and truly listen. I’m grateful for the leaves and flowers still being offered from small hands. The love that comes with the life extended towards me.
The leaves are still sitting in my sewing room, the door is still wide open. The breeze is still moving through the house, the green still visible from the front door. Between the beginnings and ends is constancy. And I really love that part too.