I saved a worm’s life today.
Lily spotted it on our morning walk. She stopped her scooter just past it, knelt down above it, and said, “Mom! It’s still squirmin’!”
Sure enough, there it was, smack in the middle of the sun-soaked sidewalk, baking on the concrete, and squirming ever so slowly.
I really only did what any good, conscientious citizen would–scooped it up with a nearby leaf, dropped it off in some dirt, and laid the leaf on top of the grass above it so the sun wouldn’t keep drying it out.
And you know what? I feel preeetty good about the whole thing.
I find anymore that it’s so easy at the end of the day to focus on all the things that have gone poorly.
The sharp tones. The unnecessary impatience. The moments of divided attention.
Recently I have found myself fixating on these moments during the quiet of the evening after all the kids are in bed and agonizing over my shortcomings.
Of course there’s something to be said for analyzing the day’s game tape and making changes as necessary, but there’s a lot of good in each day too. And I think I spend too much time overlooking it.
My new practice, then, is to pay more attention to the good as I end each day. In those quiet evening moments, I’ve been trying to make a habit of thinking about all the ways we loved and responded well throughout our days. To cut myself some slack and celebrate our successes.
So, here’s to the worms.
I was present with the girls in that small moment, and that’s something I want to remember.
Here’s to the books read. The twisted flower crowns. The patient correction.
Here’s to the times I left my phone in the other room, so my attention only had to be divided in thirds rather than fourths.
These are the kinds of things I want to end my day thinking about, so that I’m more likely to repeat them tomorrow.
That’s right. We’re gonna keep on saving all the worms.
It’s definitely worth it.