The pages of my journal are liberally sprinkled with quotes collected from books I’ve read or am reading. I enjoy discovering the intersection of ideas from very different sources. Not long ago, I read these insightful words about parenting from Stacy Edwards.
We spend too much time tidying up messes that will reappear and not enough time enjoying moments that will never come again. Maybe we are too quick to tell our children to go and play instead of asking them to come and sit. (Devotions from the Front Porch, Thomas Nelson)
At the same time, I was reading Agatha Christie’s memoir, Come, Tell Me How You Live. In it, she says memories of happy times and places are “… something imperishable that one not only had but still has.”
Even small and fleeting moments have the power to stay with us all our lives.
These two excerpts reminded me that it’s valuable to stop and pay attention, to say, “Come and sit,” and to recognize moments that are imperishable.
When I first wrote that sentence in my journal, I wrote “create moments that are imperishable.” But then I crossed out create and changed it to recognize. Because I had to stop and wonder: Do I have the power to create memories whenever I wish? Possibly, but perhaps I should pay attention to the moments that will become sweet memories—even imperishable ones—if I only stop long enough to notice them.
We talk about “creating memories” with our family and friends, as if that were always in our power, that we can do so whenever we choose—or put it off if to a more convenient time if we’re busy or distracted. Intentionality is important, but so is mindfulness.
Sometimes God whispers—stop and listen; notice this; hear her story, or his—when it’s not my intention at the moment, when something else is on my mind or my to-do list. A moment may become an imperishable memory just because I stopped long enough to notice—or it may pass by unremembered if I don’t.
Come and sit.
Terri Barnes is a writer and book editor and is the author of Spouse Calls: Messages from a Military Life.
