A Snowy Pause: Finding Meaning in the Everyday
As I’m sitting here on my couch, Charlie, my two year old, is sleeping beside me and I’m watching the snow fall and slowly blanket everything in sight. The snow began to fall earlier today when we were in church which is a 5 minute walk up the road.
By the time we were making our way back home Charlie bundled up in his stroller, the ground was lightly covered with fresh powder. The air was quiet and the snow crunched beneath my feet. As I was pushing the stroller home, I couldn’t help but feel so much gratitude for each snowflake falling, the stunning silence that snowfall brings, and being present to it all.
“So booful!” I hear from the stroller. I smile and respond, “I agree Char, the snow is so beautiful!” In this phase of his life (the teachable twos), Charlie’s vocabulary is taking off, and my husband Drew and I are very aware of what we say, how we say it, and the impact our words have on him. Every phrase, every expression is an opportunity for learning and connection.
That walk home was a humbling reminder of just how much our little ones absorb, not just from what we teach them directly, but from how we experience the world. Charlie’s simple description wasn’t just a comment on the snow—it was a reflection of how he sees the world through our eyes. And in moments like these, I realize that my beliefs about everything—from how I view the weather to the way I approach life—are being passed down to him, even in the smallest ways.
Drew and I often talk about what and how we want to raise Charlie in a positive, loving environment while recognizing the formative impact of everyday moments (and knowing it’s not all going to be perfect). We ask each other questions like: How do we want to instill freedom to choose spiritual beliefs? How do we want to teach him resilience? Handle losing? How can we show him it’s okay to be imperfect and learn from our mistakes? To embrace both the struggles and joys in life?
I see that what I do, what we do as parents, shapes who he’s becoming—when I’m putting on face lotion Charlie is right there next to me wanting to moisturize his own face. He’ll have a sander in his hand and proclaim, “Char werk” as Drew is patching up the walls. These are the moments where I see him not just as my son, but as a little sponge, absorbing every word, every mannerism, every feeling around him. Whether he’s witnessing hard work or seeing how to take care of his skin, it all matters. It all counts.
It’s also in these quiet, everyday moments, I’m reminded that it's a privilege to guide Charlie with love, mindfulness, and intention. To consciously choose to be present for both the big moments and the quiet, seemingly insignificant ones. I know they’re laying the foundation for the person he will become. And that thought gives me a gentle pause. Because there’s a stillness in this process, a slowness that lets me appreciate the beauty in both the ordinary and the extraordinary.
I know Drew and I are going to continue to make mistakes. But what’s important is recognizing those moments, learning from them, and showing Charlie that it's okay to stumble along the way. What matters is how we respond—with love, a willingness to grow, and an appreciation for whatever the present moment brings.
