The Gift of Paying Attention
Today, we went to the park and met my husband after he wrapped up at work. We don’t usually make that a habit so late in the afternoon. But it was the kind of January afternoon where Florida was showing off with its perfectly crisp and clear weather.
It took me nearly a decade to get the girls’ shoes and coats on and their scooters and bikes loaded into the van. God forbid we Floridians would experience even a touch of cold weather. We, of course, had to grab some hot chocolate on our way, so I wasn’t sure we’d have much time at the park before dark. But we made it just in time to enjoy a spectacular sunset over Lake Dora.
My girls were scootering along the sidewalk in front of the bench I was sitting on. Back and forth they went, admiring the snakebird in the lake, slurping up its dinner, and the seaplanes that were dry-docked just to the right of us. They noticed her before I did and made a point to draw my attention to the elderly lady leaning over her walker and laboring to light a lantern.
She had a beautiful, large white lantern in one hand and a finicky lighter in the other. The lantern had a message printed on it and was one of those that you light in memory of someone you love and then let go of, allowing the wind to take it wherever it wishes. I’m so glad my girls were paying attention to her. It was evident that she was struggling to light the lantern so that it could lift off.
My husband and I slowly and deliberately made our way toward her to see if we could help. It took all three of us to ensure the lantern lit without burning a hole in its side, making it unable to fly. After a few minutes, the flame inside the lantern was strong enough to lift it on its own, and the woman let it go.
We watched in awe as it quietly made its way up, up, and away. I sensed that this lantern was for someone special, so I asked our new friend, Jill, who it was for. I found out that the lantern, slowly climbing its own staircase to heaven, was in honor of her daughter’s birthday. She would have been 48 years old.
My husband and I quietly processed the gift of being able to help this woman celebrate her precious daughter’s birthday. Our daughters were skipping about, reveling in seeing the lantern lit up, and quietly contemplating that this daughter—her daughter—was no longer among us but in heaven now.
I often scold my girls when they aren’t paying attention to what I’m saying and are too easily distracted, but not today. I was reminded that they may actually be paying attention to the more important things. The meaningful moments I so easily miss in the midst of my endless tasks and limited time are often the ones right in front of me. As we enter a new year, I’m taking to heart the gift of my girls having the eyes to see someone and something special. I’m holding close this unlikely meeting with Jill and the privilege of celebrating her daughter’s life. I’m pondering what Mary Oliver said about noticing: “to pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”
And mostly, I’m writing this down because I’m quick to forget and more often than not, I power through instead of practicing staying in the posture of paying attention to others. May 2024 be a year of paying attention and being present to who and what is right in front of me.
“Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. / Be astonished. / Tell about it.”
— from “Sometimes” by Mary Oliver
