Seize the day!

Everywhere we go, Cora gets enormous attention. Especially on bus rides. The passengers around me can't keep their eyes off of her and vie in attempting to draw her precious smiles their way. And more often than not, I also am the recipient of the same hackneyed observation from the older women: "It goes so fast and they're grown before you know it." Over and over I receive the same words, over and over I smile and say, "Yes, I've heard." Except once. Just a few days ago as I boarded the bus and took a seat at the front in the easily accessible handicapped area (I think Cora constitutes a bit of an encumbrance for me), a couple across from me began the usual ritual of sending silly faces and sweet coos my way. I was amused with their funky, hippie dress and hair, and the guitar cases at their sides. As they rose to get off at the next stop, I was surprised to hear a new reflection from the woman: "I know people always say it goes too fast, but it didn't for me. My daughter's 23 now, and it felt like 23 years--because I always lived in the present." Well, that's a pleasant change, I thought.
Over the past few days I've been considering what that means, to live in the present. How can I make each day count, so that they don't pass by in a blurry, breathless burst of vapor? It comes with intentional living, intentional delighting. To not be worn down by grown-up cares, but to savor all the sweet little delights that continually come my way; to not allow busyness to shroud my days with "just getting through", but to be attentive and receptive to every little moment of goodness and beauty. To genuinely look and feel and love.
Certainly I know that life will always pass too quickly, no matter how much I enjoy each and every day. C.S. Lewis acknowledged that this frustration of ours with time is a consequence of our God-given desire for eternity. So it seems that to truly live in the present, I must actually live in the light of eternity, with the knowledge that each of these daily delights are only mere foretastes of the infinite joys of abiding with God. I know it seems trite; as Christians we hear it so often. But I need the reminder; it renews my hope, it makes me look for these little glimpses as gifts from heaven, and it makes me desire that all my thoughts and actions have lasting significance. I want to wring everything I can out of every day God gives me on this earth, in loving, in doing good, in worshiping Him.
Last night, I was listening to some Celtic worship music by Eden's Bridge, and it seemed to embody these things I was thinking about, but of course in a much more poignant way. David and I listened to this song over and over again in the car one day as we drove along the rocky Scottish coastline one October. It will always carry beautiful memories for me, as well as to prompt me to stop being "a fool" that is too busy picking up small, hard stones rather than soaking in the glory of God's beauty and wonder that is before me every day. I hope you can listen to it here--it won't allow me to because I'm not in the U.S. so I don't know if this works.
Stones And Sea by Eden's Bridge