As we start a new month, a new season; a hectic busy crazy overwhelming emotion-filled family time of year, I thought of this picture I keep on my microwave.
And I decided perhaps this Christmas season I will have a new mantra, “blueberry cobbler.” The day my grandson got his first taste of that gooey, juicy, crunchy sugary delight, he dug in with both hands and only came up for air to scream,”More, daddy, more!”
The lesson here is obvious so I’ll try not to become too moralizing and didactic. I think the picture speaks for itself. (But I am incapable of letting it do all the talking.) We as adults forget, or have lost the ability, to dig in and embrace our perfect moments as they come. Unexpected, unassuming, they are often sitting right in our lap as we drive onward to the next thing on our list, answering the cell call and text that are coming in simultaneously as the light turns green.
So I don’t know about you, but I am going to attempt a Blueberry Cobbler Christmas. Focusing on the joy in the moments, even if the presents aren’t under the tree and even if the tree is still in the garage in a bucket.
It really is what it’s all about, isn’t it? I’m goin’ for it and hope you’ll come along.
And if I weaken, which I invariably do on most resolutions, clear the aisle for me as I scour the grocery shelves for cranberry sauce on Christmas Eve or hunt for that last roll of red anything in the wrapping paper section of the Container Store.
Or better still, grab me by the shoulders and say, “blueberry cobbler.” And I’ll give you a big sticky, purple- faced hug.
