I saw a darling couple on the beach the other night. I watched as a photographer placed them just so, an obviously pregnant belly against a backdrop of rolling waves and setting sun. Her long blond braids blowing in the wind as his hand gently touched her swollen abdomen, joy and anticipation radiating from their faces as they stared into each other’s eyes. I could tell so much about this young couple as they posed – her hope for this new life; his adoration of her.
Then the spell was broken as her flowy white gown billowed up around them in a gust of wind, and their laughter brought me out of my reverie.
Did they even realize the moment they’d just experienced?
Perfection in the ordinary.
Summer often holds too much. Too much anticipation. Too much I want to cram into an 8-week period of time. Too much pressure to make perfect memories for my children so they won’t forget how glorious summers can be.
Too much.
And summer almost never lives up to its promises of glory and endless nights and perfect vacations spent with perfect people.
Summer 2024 has been busy for our family. And wonderfully full. Peter and I celebrated our 25th anniversary across the world in Portugal, a dream-come-true kind of trip. Kids had sports and technology and church camps. Family and friends came to visit us in Tennessee for several days spread throughout the weeks, and we finally took a beach vacation with grandparents and cousins. Memories were made and I’m grateful for them.
But summer hasn’t been all roses and sunshine. There have been sibling rivalries, disappointments when we can’t do all we had planned, car troubles with too much money spent, and nights of sleeping with backs turned and anger boiling beneath the surface.
Summer has mimicked life, I guess. Highs and lows. Happiness and not.
Yet, like the young couple on the beach, I wonder if I even realize the perfection in the ordinary. The sweet moments reading with Jillienne. The game nights. The rainy afternoons listening to siblings play video games together, the two who usually almost kill each other getting along and having fun. Running errands in the car with just one kid, getting that one-on-one time any way I can.
It’s all ordinary. And extraordinary at the same time.
Sadly, summer is almost over. About this time every July, I start feeling panicky, wondering if I’ll be able to cram a few more fun afternoons into our waning days. Hoping I’ve done enough to help our children create some lasting memories. But this year I’m also reminding myself to cherish the small moments.
The perfection in the ordinary.