We are bringing “Darling Letters” from your inbox to the blog! We love the art of letter writing and believe it helps build authentic community. Our editors and contributors have thoughtfully written encouraging letters to cut through the busyness and speak straight to your heart.
I didn’t realize how much family traditions meant to me until I saw them passed down to my father. Last summer, I was on the phone with my dad while he was gardening. He bent down and checked his cucumber—something my grandpa always grew—and exclaimed when he noticed five new ones growing after just a few days.
The sweetness of that moment wasn’t in the fruits of his labor, but it was in the joy of three generations worth of traditions. As he passed down the patient art of gardening, my dad moved from the role of the student to teacher while tending to the same garden my grandpa once kept. As my dad explained how to know when a cucumber is just right, I realized that sometimes the beauty in the mundane moments simply comes from who we spend it with.
Sometimes the beauty in the mundane moments simply comes from who we spend it with.
I sometimes wonder what else I am missing that’s beautiful. What other things are in the fabric of my family or my community that I am writing off as mundane? What other simplicities, that if I took the time to look at, are holding us together in a million different ways?
Instead of rushing through life, let’s allow the mundane moments to become intentional points of connection, made beautiful solely by the fact that they mean something to us and the ones we love. Look for the mundane things in your life that are actually beautiful and hold them tight.
Yes, let’s pass down the big stuff, like heirlooms and family trips, but let’s also pass down simple traditions like knowing when the cucumbers are just right.
Let’s allow the mundane moments to become intentional points of connection
With joy,
Shelby Cormier, the Darling family
Is there a memory of a “mundane moment” that brings you joy because of who you spent it with? Why is the “who” we do things with just as important, if not more, than the “what” we do?
Image via Elizabeth Thorne
