I should have been suspicious when the tent showed up on our front porch in May, shipped from Costco. Weeks later, the UPS guy dropped off several sleeping mats, also from Costco. What was this? Could it be that my husband was conniving to take our family on a camping trip?
Why would he do this to me, take me out of my natural habitat (indoors) and plop me into the wilds? Why would he do this to our kids, tear them away from their screens and electrical power? Why would he do this to himself — deal with all the whining and gnashing of teeth that was sure to ensue?
Not to mention the children’s.
Mid-month we rectified our family’s Nature Deficit Disorder and I got outside my comfort zone. We spent the weekend at a campground near Estes Park, CO. Was the weekend amazing, reminiscent of a Brady Bunch episode, a string of pearly perfect moments?
The weekend was fraught with tension, arguments, frustration, and even a little blood. We had delay after delay getting started on Friday afternoon and therefore got to the campground long after dusk, hungry and cranky. Finding our designated spot and setting up by moonlight was a challenge. Putting together a tent for the first time by flashlight was a challenge. And finding kindling in the dark was a challenge. To cap things off, our mats didn’t fully inflate on first use, meaning we essentially slept on the cold hard ground on a night the temperature got down to 48 degrees.
The next day there were fatigue-induced spats about, well everything. But there was also swimming, eating ice cream in town, and each kid choosing a trip memento.
Said memento brought Reed much joy but was eventually the cause of the bloodletting. He’d chosen a small pocket knife and Roger showed him how to whittle, which he did happily much of the afternoon. Until his attention wandered for a moment and he sliced his thumb (turned out to be only a few layers deep). Big commotion.
It was exhausting. I wasn’t feeling very perfect moment-y for much of the weekend.
Yet there were some idyllic components.
Our site was delightful. (And not just because my husband got up early to build a fire, cook breakfast, and have coffee waiting.)
We had friendly neighbors.
Bambi and her kin frolicked all day right in front of us, replacing the Saturday cartoons and sports shows as our entertainment.
Tessa demonstrated her flair for fashion, even while roughing it. Not much chance of blending in had it become necessary to camouflage ourselves.
At 8000 feet, our view of the day sky was a clarified hue of blue.
Later that evening after we’d cooked and cleaned up and assembled s’mores, I realized we had been building our family narrative story by story. We sat in our camp chairs with faces aglow, bonded by shared anecdotes that we’ll tell through the ages, maybe to people who don’t even exist yet.
That expansive thought, which entered my mind as I saw the light flickering on my loved ones’ faces, ignited my perfect moment, turning all that other dross into gold.
A happy moment, Lori, will seed ten thousand more. — Notes from the Universe.
This was a message in my emailbox awhile back. And it explains why it’s in my interest (and yours) to notice perfect moments.
Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.
On the last Monday of each month we engage in mindfulness about something that is right with our world. Everyone is welcome to join.
To participate in Perfect Moment Monday:
- Follow LavenderLuz.com.
- Write up your own Perfect Moment and post it on your blog (or other site).
- Use LinkyTools below to enter your name (or blog name), the URL of your Perfect Moment post, and a thumbnail image if desired.
- Visit the Perfect Moments of others and let the writers know you were there with a comment.
With your Perfect Moment post , you may place this button on your blog (in the post, on the sidebar, or both).What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of?