Today, I was helping Brent wind up the hoses to our trailer, as we packed up for our final jaunt to home. As I bent down to secure the hose in place while Brent wound it round and round, I had a flashback memory of me and my Pa.

There we were again, out in the yard, Pa teaching me how to wind up the water hose. There’s an art to it, you know. You can’t just wind a hose up any old way or else it’ll get all jangled and kinked up. When the memory came, racing back in vividly bright colors, I cried, quiet.

Because winding up a water hose with my Dad was the most ordinary moment I can imagine. But, you never know which ordinary moment will lodge itself secure in your memory and then come traipsing back years later, in the most brilliantly alive narration.

I paused and just let the memory replay. I remembered again the sand from the hose on my hands. The way my Dad would wind up the hose, almost professionally, as if he had years of practice. I treasured that moment in time–of just getting to do something with my Dad. That pride in my chest that I was helping out with the yard work and he was teaching me a new thing.

And then I took note. Because earlier this morning, I was so stressed out. On “packing up the trailer” days, I do that to myself. Seems like no matter how much I get done the night before, the day of our trip, there’s still piles and piles of things left to accomplish, just so we can move on down the road.

Moving around so much can be exhausting. But, I don’t want to get mad about it. I want to fold up the rugs and button up the cabinets, fill up the water bottles and corral the kids with a peacefully calm heart. Me and God are still working on that part.

But this morning, the Holy Spirit spoke to me as I bent over a sandy water hose.

“Lovey. I know it’s hard to get through the day, sometimes. But, go ahead and relax your shoulders. Look! There’s sunlight around you! The day is bright and warm and you have energy. And you get to do this with Brent. Take a breather. Just look at him. Stare for a moment into his blue eyes and enjoy this ordinary moment that you get to spend with him. You won’t come by this exact way again. Soak it in.”

I smiled at Brent. Gave him a kiss before swinging up into the cab of the truck. We cheered each other on.

These moments–they fly by like the asphalt beneath our tires. But, it’s the ordinary ones that lodge themselves quietly in our hearts and bring so much meaning to our lives, years down the road.

We just get to pause and pay attention.