Today was one of those perfect fall days. The kind of day where the sun is shining, but it’s not like the hot summer sun. The kind of day where the air is cool and there’s a breeze shifting the curtains in the windows. The kind of day that offers an invitation to come outside. And, so, when my 15 year old wanted to take a drive, I couldn’t say no. My husband and our 17 year old had gone out earlier in the day so he could check on some final details for tomorrow’s church service and so the 17 year old could play the bass while he did what he needed to do.
Because our 15 year old wasn’t ready to head out when they did, I told her she and I could take a drive later in the afternoon. So, we did. Windows down, sun shining, her hand swimming through the cool wind out her window, music playing in her headphones. These drives tend to be quiet and reflective for me and I don’t mind that, especially after a long or busy week. After a week of doing things, the idea of simply being—and thinking—is actually kind of pleasant.
These are the kind of simple things that fill my heart. Part of the time I spend time in prayer. Part of the time I simply enjoy the beauty that passes by the car windows. Part of the time I contemplate all the reasons I have to be grateful. Today as we drove some of the quiet back roads, my 17 year old’s smile flashed through my mind. Before I headed out I stopped by her room and spoke just briefly, a check in to let her know what I was up to. During that short conversation, she’d smiled at me in the way that is unique to her and has been since she was a baby. It lit up the room as well as my heart and I had to smile myself. How could I not?
A short while later, driving around with my younger teen, I glanced in the rearview mirror and spied the contented smile on her face. In those moments I see complete reverie because she is in a place wrapped in music and the stories she often creates in her own mind. Later, I am sure she will either write down the story or pick up the thread while she paces through the grass, narrating a story that inspires joy in her. It is the kind of joy that lights up her face with that wonderful and familiar smile and, like her sister’s smile, it lights up my heart as well. As I considered that smile, I had to smile myself. How could I not?
I love my girls’ smiles.
I love to see their joy. I love the way it radiates off of them when they are truly filled with joy or delight. I love the way their smiles shift their faces into a lovely glow of contentment. The way their smiles, when they are genuine smiles steeped in pure joy, light them from within so that their eyes shine like stars in the night. Truly, this seemingly simple part of them still stuns me as much now as it did when they were babies I held in my arms, back when those first smiles stunned and surprised me as a new mother.
Life can be challenging. And I write about their strength and their resilience and the ways they’ve grown through the years. And yet, despite all the ways they have grown and changed, their joy and their smiles still spark a deep and resounding joy in me. Their smiles can still seem like a north star guiding me into the goodness and the beauty of this life. Because these two remarkable young women are part of that goodness and beauty, with their tender hearts, with their kindness, with their goodness, with their joy. And that always brings a smile to my face.