Two Minutes of Raking

This past weekend, my granddaughters and I raked leaves into a big pile and jumped in. Then we put the pile back together and did it again. And again.

There were smiles and laughter, followed by more raking. Apparently, rebuilding the pile is part of the admission price.

There were no expensive tickets. No elaborate preparations. About two minutes with a rake, and we had everything we needed.

What stayed with me afterward was how much joy came from something so simple. The girls weren’t waiting for a bigger experience. They were enjoying the one right in front of them, and they were perfectly happy to repeat it.

Somewhere along the way, many of us adults get out of practice at that.

We become good at carrying responsibility. We manage calendars, solve problems, care for people, and try to stay ahead of whatever comes next. Even our fun can become a project, complete with reservations, research, and a budget. By the time we’ve arranged everything, we may need a little recovery before we begin.

There’s nothing wrong with planning a vacation or buying tickets to something special. I enjoy those experiences, too. But I wonder how many ordinary opportunities for joy I overlook while arranging the extraordinary ones.

My granddaughters had no trouble recognizing the opportunity in a pile of leaves.

I’m wondering when I started making joy so complicated.

As November begins, we’ll hear a lot about gratitude. We’ll pause around tables and name the people and blessings we’re thankful for. I’m grateful for that tradition, but the leaf pile has me thinking about how gratitude begins long before we say anything.

It begins with noticing.

A conversation we have time to stay in. A walk on a beautiful afternoon. Someone we love laughing so hard that we start laughing, too. These moments can pass quietly while our attention is somewhere else.

I believe God gives us more ordinary gifts than we take time to receive. I can thank Him for my family and still be distracted when we’re together. I can be grateful for another day and spend most of it mentally reaching for tomorrow. That afternoon with the girls gave me something simple and good to receive right then.

Their laughter also reminded me that joy doesn’t require everything else in life to be settled. Responsibilities remain. Difficult things remain difficult. Yet there can still be room in the same day for delight, for play, for a few minutes that don’t need to accomplish anything.

I don’t want to turn an afternoon in the leaves into another assignment to do better. That would miss much of what made it wonderful. I do want to remember how little it took, and how good it felt to join in.

The girls were happy to jump into the same pile again. I’m grateful I got to be there with them.

What simple joy might be within reach today?

It may only need two minutes of raking.