The piles of laundry faded into oblivion as I folded her in my arms. We talked, we remembered her friend, we marveled that the sun was still shining, the world was still turning, that everything was still the same and yet not. I sat watching my sweet daughter working through grief and silently thanked the Lord for allowing me to be there with her. I realized, once again, that life is fragile and every moment counts. I also was forced to acknowledge a lesson I have been slow in learning: I am most certainly NOT in control.
Yesterday wasn’t the day I had planned, and I’m so glad. It was a day filled with moments that mattered, a day where I was at just the right place, at just the right time, for someone I love. We talked, we had lunch out, we shopped to distract ourselves from the pain, it was a very different day than either of us had expected.
Abraham Lincoln has authored many of my favorite quotes. He shared this thought, “It’s not the years in your life that count; it’s the life in your years.” I heartily agree with wise Abe, we must make our life count, make a difference every day in some small way if we can. I’m hoping I can learn to joyfully and consistently choose compassion over control and love over lists.
The laundry still isn’t done. I had a surprise visit from my sweet little granddaughter Nora today, and who’s going to choose piles of dirty clothes over hugs and kisses from a five year old princess. Not me. I’ll do the laundry tomorrow . . . maybe!