Life and All Its Charms

I've been wanting one of these for the longest time, and this Christmas I got one! A charm bracelet with those cute little personalized baubles. 

I hand selected each one, taking great care so as to avoid that dreadful after-effect, experienced by many a creative overthinker. Buyer's remorse. Thankfully, there was none here. 

I chose:

• A lovely pink camera - very me. I inherited my father's obsession with photography;
• A baseball - because I love watching my son play in little league;
• A fleur-de-lis - for my beloved France and all its culinary experiences; and 
• Two crystal-type balls to flank each side.

A slideshow of memories pans through my mind as each charm unearths significant experiences that I love to savor. 

The charms themselves are mini milestones of sorts. Mementos. Nothing more than metallic symbols, really. 

But, oh, the joys of remembering all the fun, the excitement, the emotions, the flavors, the smells, the sights...Priceless. They are worth more than the bracelet, of course. 

But, the memories wither like the grass. Here today, gone tomorrow. The bracelet will hopefully be here for years to come. 

I gaze down at my hand and am reminded just how quickly life slips through our fingers like beads of sand between our toes. As of late, I've enjoyed more and more the sisterly encouragement of a friend I've yet to meet, Ann Voskamp. 

On her blog, she mentions in several places, that life is not a race and that we need to slow down and not only give thanks to The Giver of all things but also just soak in the "now."

For whatever reason, I like to race through life sometimes. I'm not sure if it's because I want to get as much done as possible, or what. 

So, today, I'm slowing down. 

I'm sitting between my children on the couch, snuggling each one more, hugging each one randomly, remembering the tenderness of tiny cheeks as my lips press against their giggling faces. I'm taking it all in one moment at a time and remembering that they won't be this little for very long.

One day this now will be a distant memory. A good one. A comforting one. And, I hope that as I gaze down on my not-so-new bracelet, I'll remember this life and all its charms, and I'll give thanks once again. And again. And again to the Giver of all good things...

Jesus.

Here's to a slower cup of coffee,