The Front Door I'm So Glad I Never Replaced
On December 18, 2018, one week before Christmas, I was in a car accident that changed everything.
People usually assume the story is about the crash. It's not, really. The part that changed me happened later that same day, when I came home from the accident.
The Front Door
I remember driving through the gate of our neighborhood, walking up to our front door, and just stopping.
I'd wanted to replace that door for as long as I could remember. I could have given you the whole list. It was beat up, covered in scooter marks and scratches from the kids crashing into it.
Standing there that day, I was so glad I never did.
Every one of those marks meant somebody lived there. Kids learning to ride. A thousand ordinary days I'd rushed through without really seeing them. That door had been keeping track of memories I didn't even know I was making.
Watching Through the Window
I didn't go in right away. I was afraid I'd get emotional. All 7 kids were home, and none of them really understood what had just happened. So I stood outside and looked through the window.
I watched them talk to each other and go about their day. And all I could think was, I almost didn't get to see this again.
Then a harder thought hit me. Their lives were going to keep going whether I was there or not. They'd keep growing up, figuring things out, bickering, laughing, turning into whoever they were going to be. The world wasn't going to wait for me.
I knew right then I needed a real relationship with each of them. I needed to be present for their life, not just managing their life.
Standing in the Doorway
When I finally walked in, I just stood there.
The old me would have come through that door already scanning. Pizza on the counter. Somebody wearing rollerblades in the house. Two of them fighting about something, and me deciding whether to step in.
This time I didn't do anything. I just watched. And what went through my head was, God, I have a beautiful family.
They're such cool people, doing their thing and working stuff out. Yes, it was messy. But it was my mess, and I loved it.
One of my sons spotted me. "Mom, why are you quiet? Why aren't you coming in? What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm just looking," I said. "I love you guys."
I was trying not to cry. He didn't notice. He just scootered right past me. I loved that too.
The Christmas I Let the Paper Stay on the Floor
A week later, it was Christmas.
Normally I'm the one holding the garbage bag. In our house, wrapping paper barely hits the floor before I've grabbed it. I'm cleaning up while people are still opening gifts.
That year, I let it go everywhere. I didn't pick up one piece.
I just watched. Little fingers tearing into paper. The surprise on their faces. Everybody leaning over to see what everybody else got and who it was from. And then one of them saying, "I picked this out for you, and here's why. Do you like it?"
I'd been missing all of that for years because I was worried about the floor.
One of my sons noticed. "Mom, aren't you going to pick up the paper?"
"I decided the paper can sit there for a while," I said. "We'll get it later."
He gave me a look. "Okay... are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure."
Every Christmas since, I sit back and watch the paper fly, and I'm there for it in a way I never was before.
What the Accident Woke Me Up To
I'd never wish an accident on anyone. But I'm grateful for what mine did for me. I had been sleepwalking through my own life, and it snapped me out of it.
Nothing in my house changed. The door still had scratches. There was still pizza on the counter. The wrapping paper still made a mess. For years I'd looked at those things and seen a to-do list. After the accident, I looked at the same things and saw my family.
You Don't Need an Accident to Start Noticing the Little Things
I learned this the hard way. You don't have to.
Start with something in your house you've been meaning to fix or replace. Maybe it's the front door, the kitchen table, the car, or the wall where you mark everyone's height. Ask yourself what story it's holding. Some wear and tear is just proof you've been living.
Tonight, before you walk into your house, stop at the door for ten seconds. Look at the people inside before you start managing them.
And sometime this week, let one mess sit, whether that's actual wrapping paper or something else, so you can see what's really going on around you.
Your life is happening right now, in the scratches and the pizza boxes and the noise. Today is a someday. Don't wait for something to wake you up to it.
Frequently Asked Questions
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Slow down during the in-between moments, like walking in the door or sitting down to dinner, and look before you do anything. The little things are usually right there. We're just moving too fast to catch them.
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When we're in management mode, we see tasks instead of moments. Scratches turn into repairs, and wrapping paper turns into cleanup. The moment is still happening. We're just busy looking at what needs fixing.
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Pick one ordinary moment each day to simply watch instead of manage. Let something stay messy long enough to enjoy it, and say what you're feeling out loud, even if it's just "I love you guys.
