Metamorphosis in Manicure

How many moments go unnoticed, fail to be captured by a preoccupied parent? It amazes me how much I miss. And the reality of my absence comes back to me in the most mundane task.

Calling the troops to attention, I attend to each one according to their age: almost 2, 3, and 4.

“Elizabeth, are you ready?” Two black eyes stare in anticipation of a routine well learned. She comes forth trustingly.

Sitting the toddler upon my lap facing me, with a book between us, I begin to cut away the anatomical indicator of moments lived, taciturn time passing along a foggy path. God’s timing is quite ordinary, if only I have eyes to see with clarity the extraordinary therein.

Down fall the clippings never acknowledged by the local newspaper nor remembered well enough by me.

Where was I all this time? What has passed me by? Anything of great consequence?

Clip…clip, clip…clip…

A singular privilege, self-assigned, long ago, a simple task that teaches: Be Attentive!

In the name of Hygiene, I observe hands, fingers, demonstrating how much my children have grown.

I couldn’t believe Thomas’. “Thomas, your hands! Where have you been? What have you been doing?” Of course, he must know…doesn’t he?

A smile reflects the amusement of such questioning. “Silly, Daddy…”

Little hands reveal so much. Fleeting moments never to be retrieved, only missed.

Clip…clip, clip…clip…

“Done.”

As my oldest approaches deck, I aptly see the right thumbnail cut back, only much more jagged than when I saw it last.

“Frances, what have you done?”

“Daddy, sometimes I cut it with my teeth, when you forget.”

Ah...the lesson learned.

Lord, help me not to forget, but to live and to remember, to be truly present to my children in each moment I spend with them; to see your will for me within those ordinary instances of my life. For you never forget us, Father; even the hairs of our heads are numbered (Mt. 10: 30-31), how you value each moment...