This is what I heard last night a few minutes after I walked in from teaching my evening yoga class , just as I was turning on the oven to prepare dinner.
The kids had just walked out the door to take Lucy outside and my son was beckoning me.
At first I wanted to say, "buddy I'll see it later, I really have to get dinner started". Mind you, it had been a long day--early morning practice at 4:45 AM, worked until 3:30, walked on the river eating ice cream with my little man and taught an evening class.
But against my own inner resistance, I walked to the front door and saw him through the glass. He was beaming with the sweetest, most innocent smile--the epitome of wonder and delight--and he was pointing up toward our porch light looking back and forth between me and his find, eyes alight.
I walked over to the glass door and looked up to see the lime green tree frog that had captured my little boy's attention, stopping him in his tracks until he could share it with someone...me.
As I stood there appreciating the delicate little frog, I was so grateful for all the times we have stopped along the way to revel in the little things--for all the critters, colors in the sky, beautiful fallen leaves or flowers--because now, he takes in the world with an open heart, catching the details that might have gone unnoticed.
The fact that he wanted to share this with me is an honor and one of the many gifts of my day dare I slow down to receive.