Narrate.

Someone taught me how important it is to self-narrate a moment.  I don’t mean aloud like a narrator in a play, although that could be very interesting, and possibly entertaining for folks watching.  No, I mean being aware of the good that is happening, right this second.  I was thinking about this a lot the past week, and really putting it into practice as much as possible.

My kids play sports, and one piece of being part of a team is going to practice.  Can I be honest?  I love taking my kids to practice.  Know what else?  I love going to their games too.  And, where we live, life is still hot — like, 100 degree weather hot — and you know what, I still love every second of it.  It is only one hour of a twenty-four hour day.  I bring sunscreen, lots of ice water, and some shade, and I go.  I soak it all in.  Every time.  Every week.  You know why?  I am so thankful.  I am thankful, every time, that I get to watch them play.  Watching them play a sport is different from watching them in any other place in their life.  It is a little block of time to watch the way they run, and learn, and interact with others.  I watch the way they learn new skills and use them.  It is this amazing little season to watch how much they have changed from the season before it.  I love it.  And, above all, I love the fact that I get to be here to be a part of it.  They will always remember me being a part of this time in their lives.  I will never forget it either.  For me, I am thankful, every time.  It might sound silly, but I am.

This week, it was hot.  We arrived at practice one evening, water bottles in hand, and everyone went their own way.  The boys had things to do, and I settled into my red chair on the sideline.   I watched my older son practicing with his team.  I sat amazed, as usual, with how fast he runs and how long his legs are (physical traits he clearly did not get from me).  I thought about how much he had grown since last year.  It is so amazing the way that one year can change so much.  My younger son had his own thing going on.  He had his own soccer ball and was playing and laughing with one of the other little brothers; these two were both smaller versions of their older brothers, practicing their own skills on the side lines.  I thought about how independent my little one had become, even from just one year ago.  He used to spend practice on a blanket, right by my side, playing with cars and eating goldfish crackers.  Now he was off, not too far, but on his own.  It made me smile.  It still does.  As I watched my family out on the field, a big breeze came through.  It was lovely and cool and very welcomed.  It was one of those first-signs-of-fall type breezes — the type that reminds a person that summer really isn’t going to last forever.  It hit me, yet again, how lovely life can be.  I was thankful that I didn’t spend my time complaining about taking my kids to practice, or dropping them off because I didn’t want to sit in the heat of the last days of summer.  I was thankful that I was there, soaking it all in.  I am thankful that I took the time to narrate the beauty of that little moment.  I was there to watch them grow.  I was there to feel that breeze.  I am aware of this moment, and how it won’t last forever.  I am thankful to be a part of this season of life.  And, I am thankful for the little things that make me not only see the positive, but really feel it too.

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