Living in this present moment
“They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now” + choosing to be present and and stay in the here and now
Dear Reader,
I was flipping through the drawings of Little House in the Big Woods the other day. I have loved this story, so sweet and wholesome, since my mom read it to me and my sister as children with our little floral teacups full of warm tea at my grandmother’s house. I have laughed, squealed with joy, burned with anger, and wept crocodile tears over the course of reading these lovely books.
I still vividly remember weeping when dear old Jack the dog “died.” My sister drew a picture of that sad scene at the river with only his sad legs showing over the water line. That was a tragic day indeed.
I remember the heartbreak when Mary got sick and her eyes dimmed. The terrifying locust that sounded like it was from the plagues of Egypt. I remember wanting blond hair like Mary so I could wear blue ribbons instead of having brown hair and needing red ribbons like Laura. I remember the horror of finding Laura’s beloved doll stuck in the ice—there I felt a great injustice had been done.
These books also taught me much about life. Growing up we didn’t have heating and would often be cold. But no matter how cold we were, at least we never woke up to frost-covered blankets like the Ingles did. I learned about love, sisterhood, hard work, and the importance of family.
These stories are my childhood, dearly beloved.
This all leads me to today, writing this letter to you. As I flipped through the pages, I came to the final chapter, and one thing led to another, and I ended up reading this last chapter.
Pa tells the story of why he didn’t bring any meat home that day. He went out to hunt but was mesmerized by the beauty of the moonlight and wildlife. First a great buck appeared with large antlers. He was so beautiful that Pa let him go. Then an enormous bear the size of two bears lumbered over. Pa was so intrigued by the creature that he let him go. Then a mother deer and her child appeared serene in the moonlight, and Pa could not hurt them. So Pa returned home with no fresh meat for his girls, but Laura and Mary say they will gladly have bread and butter.
Then Pa brings out his fiddle and sings “Auld Lang Syne.” Laura asks what it means, and this is Pa’s reply:
“They are the days of a long time ago, Laura,” Pa said. “Go to sleep, now.”
But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa’s fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods. She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on the honey brown fiddle. She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.
She thought to herself, “This is now.”
She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.
This, beautiful this, is what I want in life. I want to live in the here and now and not in the auld lang syne. To see the beauty in the mundane. These glimmers of hope and light in the big wide world.
All around you is now. As it happens, it will not be forgotten. Yes, the seasons change, and today will bleed into tomorrow to be forgotten. But this moment is now.
Dishes clattering in the kitchen. The darkness of night. The glow of twinkle lights on the hearth and a lamp by my side. Little House in the Big Woods resting on the armchair. My empty floral mug is on top of the small white bookshelf filled with picture books. Blankets scattered across the living room floor. White curtains with little blue patterned flowers half drawn across the tall windows. The tea kettle boils in the kitchen, soon to shout. Unloading the week’s groceries and snacking on new food. A period drama was paused on the TV. The scrape of the broom on the floor. Laughter. Joyful shouts. Drawers shutting and rolling open. Jingling bells as the back door opens and shuts. The tap-tap of my fingers against my iPad screen as I write this letter.
I want to share with you a lovely song I heard by Sarah Sparks called “In The Arms of God We Sleep.”
He who made the sun to rise
Has caused the same sun to set
He who made the Day from night
Has set apart a time to rest
He has made His creatures all
To feel our hunger, thirst, and need
As we close our eyes each night
We prove again our God is king
Many are our troubles here
By our own strength we have no peace
Sweet is the rest of His children born
In the arms of God we sleep
I hope you take from this letter a desire to be more present. Soak in this beautiful, fantastic gift that is today. The days are fleeting. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is all we have held in our grasp. We cannot turn the clock to slip back in time. We cannot speed along ahead of the sun. All we have is now.
Our God is good. Our very breath is in his hands. He is who sustains us, who gives us life every moment of every day. I want to be more thankful. I want to see the beauty in every day the Lord has graciously given me. It is not always easy. Some days it feels impossible. But thankfully, with my God, nothing is impossible, and I can rejoice in all seasons.
This is now. “It can never be a long time ago.”
Yours Truly,
Moriyah
Paperback: https://bookshop.org/a/126087/9780064400015
Hardcover: https://bookshop.org/a/126087/9780060264307
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