Every Moment Is a Gift

Every Moment Is a Gift

This morning didn’t begin with an alarm.

Well… it usually does.

Most mornings my alarm faithfully reminds me at 8:15 that another day has begun. But today, after weeks filled with family, moving boxes, birthday celebrations, visitors, and preparing for summer holidays, my body quietly said, “Rest.”

So I did.

When I finally opened my eyes, it was already 9:30.

There was no rushing. No schedule. Just another ordinary day that God had already prepared before I had even opened my eyes.

My first stop was the walk-in closet upstairs, where my washing machine and dryer patiently waited. Above the staircase hangs a drying rack that had been carrying its burden for nearly three days. The clothes seemed to whisper, “Please rescue us from these pegs!”

So I smiled.

I folded the washing that had finished drying, started another load of dark clothes, and quietly thanked God for another simple task. It may sound strange, but even washing clothes is an act of love. Every shirt belongs to someone I love. Every tiny sock reminds me of little feet running through our home.

Then my phone buzzed.

It was our youngest daughter, Bright.

“Mum, what are your plans today?”

I laughed as I replied,

“Good morning, sweetheart. My plans are your plans. What would you like to do?”

She suggested we go for a walk after the children had taken their afternoon nap.

Well…

Roman had very different plans!

Instead of sleeping, he decided the adventure should begin immediately, so half an hour later they arrived at our house.

Off we went to one of my favourite places in the Netherlands—the Oostvaardersplassen.

Bright and the children enjoyed lunch while I happily watched them. I had only just finished my own breakfast, so I simply enjoyed the company instead. Their pancakes looked delicious, especially Roman’s little stack covered with jam. His serious concentration while waiting for the jam to be spread made me smile.

After lunch we finally started the walk we had all been looking forward to.

And what a beautiful day God had painted for us.

The warm sunshine danced across the water while a gentle breeze made the summer heat feel almost perfect.

Canada geese rested peacefully along the shoreline.

Ducks paddled quietly through the reeds.

An elegant Eurasian spoonbill searched for food in the shallows.

In the distance we spotted red deer.

The Konik horses grazed peacefully.

Everywhere I looked I saw another reminder of God’s creativity.

I often wonder how anyone can walk through a place like this and not see His fingerprints.

Creation doesn’t shout.

It whispers.

It quietly declares,

“Look at what your Father has made.”

Of course, every family outing comes with its own little adventures.

Poor Sadie became convinced that every bee and every wasp in the whole nature reserve had only one mission—to steal her ice cream!

Roman soon joined the excitement, running and squealing as only a little boy can, until the very last piece of his ice lolly slipped from his tiny hands onto the ground.

His little face said everything.

Sometimes even grown-ups know exactly how that feels.

As we continued walking, we suddenly stopped.

Lying beside the path was a tiny little mole.

It had died.

A little farther on we found the remains of a heron. Its beautiful wings were still there, but its body had already returned to the earth.

For a moment my heart became quiet.

People often say,

“Well… that’s just nature.”

Or,

“That’s life.”

But is it?

Death was never God’s original design.

When God finished creating the world, He called it very good (Genesis 1:31).

Death entered creation through sin, not because it was His desire.

No, I don’t cry over every little creature that dies, but neither do I want my heart to become so familiar with death that it no longer notices.

When we truly honour God’s creation, we learn to value even the smallest parts of it.

The Bible speaks about this more often than we realise.

“The righteous care for the needs of their animals…” Proverbs 12:10

Our righteousness is reflected in how we care for the creatures God has entrusted to us.

“Know well the condition of your flocks…” Proverbs 27:23

God calls us to pay attention.

Not only to people…

but also to His creation.

Psalm 145 reminds us,

“The Lord is good to all; His tender mercies are over all His works.”

And when God spoke to Jonah about Nineveh, He didn’t only mention the 120,000 people living there.

He also said,

“…and also many animals.” (Jonah 4:11)

If our heavenly Father notices them…

perhaps we should too.

Yet the walk didn’t end with death.

Only a few steps later life surrounded us once again.

Butterflies rested on delicate wildflowers.

Tiny hoverflies busily collected nectar.

Wild blackberries hung beside the path, some still red, others perfectly ripe.

Even the prickly burrs, which most people simply walk past, displayed remarkable beauty when I stopped long enough to really look.

Perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts God gives us.

Not simply creation…

but the ability to notice it.

Children seem to understand this naturally.

Little Sadie suddenly stopped in the middle of the path and began dancing.

One moment she was twirling.

The next she was striking a graceful ballet pose with one arm stretched high toward the sky.

Meanwhile Bright quietly continued pushing the stroller farther down the path.

I couldn’t help smiling.

Isn’t that life?

Mothers keep walking forward.

Children stop to dance.

Grandmothers stop to photograph butterflies.

Each one enjoying the journey in their own beautiful way.

On our way home my phone buzzed again.

This time it was our son.

“Will you be home? Is it okay if we come for dinner?”

My answer came without even thinking.

“You never have to ask. You are always welcome. To eat… to sleep over… to stay as long as you like.”

Because, truthfully…

This isn’t really my house.

It is God’s house.

Everything I have belongs to Him.

If He has entrusted it to me, then I want to use it to bless others.

Soon the house was full again.

Our eldest granddaughter came by with her precious little boy, who is almost six months old. She is preparing to move into her own home tomorrow.

What a blessing that her new house is only four doors away.

Close enough for spontaneous visits.

Close enough for little feet to keep running through our lives.

Dinner wasn’t prepared by one person.

We all cooked together.

Little Xavian happily watched from his highchair behind me while we chopped vegetables, stirred pans, laughed, and talked.

Those moments are every bit as precious as the meal itself.

Later Michel left for another evening driving Uber.

Although he officially retired some time ago, God continues giving him opportunities to serve people.

Many passengers begin talking about Jesus before the journey is even over.

Others simply need someone who will listen.

Sometimes he comes home with joyful stories.

Sometimes heartbreaking ones.

One evening he drove a soldier who had been beaten for no reason at all. Bruised, confused and unable to even remember who to call.

It reminded us once again how desperately this world needs kindness.

After dinner we washed the dishes together.

Then, while the house slowly became quiet, I decided to bake.

One tompouce cake.

One real butter cake.

Tomorrow we’ll enjoy them together with fresh strawberries and lactose-free cream.

By bedtime everyone had settled in.

The twins had enjoyed their bath together with their little brother.

Bright and the children ended up sleeping over.

The whole house became wonderfully still.

Everyone was asleep.

Except me.

I found myself sitting quietly with my new Remarkable tablet—a thoughtful gift I received just before our summer holiday to Italy.

As I wrote these words, I realised something.

Today wasn’t extraordinary.

Nothing spectacular happened.

No great achievements.

No dramatic miracles.

Just washing.

Walking.

Cooking.

Laughing.

Photographing butterflies.

Holding babies.

Baking cakes.

Opening my home.

Listening.

Loving.

Perhaps that’s exactly where God loves to meet us.

Not only on the mountaintops…

but in the ordinary moments that quietly become holy because He is present in them.

Jesus often pointed His disciples toward ordinary things.

Birds.

Lilies.

Seeds.

Bread.

Children.

Fishing nets.

He slowed people down long enough to notice what they would otherwise walk straight past.

Perhaps that is one of the greatest spiritual disciplines we can learn.

To pay attention.

Because attention is one of the purest expressions of love.

God pays attention to us.

May we learn to pay attention to Him…

to the people He places in our lives…

and to the beautiful world He has entrusted to our care.

For in the end, I have become convinced of this simple truth:

Every moment is a gift.

Every gift is precious.

Everything precious is worth my time and my love.

Everything I have has been entrusted to me by my heavenly Father.

And because it all belongs to Him…

I want to honour it well.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights…” — James 1:17 (AMPC)

May you live peacefully, knowing that the Lord who gave you today is already preparing tomorrow.

“In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety and confident trust.” — Psalm 4:8 (AMPC)

Tonight, before you close your eyes…

Thank Him for the laundry.

Thank Him for the butterflies.

Thank Him for the laughter.

Thank Him for the shared meal.

Thank Him for the little hands and the big hugs.

Thank Him for another ordinary day that quietly became extraordinary simply because He was in it.

Perhaps tomorrow won’t look any different.

There will be more washing to fold… more meals to prepare… more little feet running through the house… more conversations… more opportunities to love.

Don’t miss them.

For every moment is a gift, every gift is precious, and every precious gift is another opportunity to see the goodness of God.

Jesus & Mimi ❤️