I used to think the things my kids would remember most were the big things.
The vacations.
The cross-country drives to National Parks.
The walks down Main Street, USA or our first visit to Epcot.
The birthday parties Robyn and I tried to pull off with way too much caffeine and Pinterest inspiration.
In my mind, those would be the kids’ highlight reel moments. The ones I figured we’d all be talking about for years. You know–the ones you bring up at family gatherings or when you watch pictures and reminisce.
But lately, something funny keeps happening.
We’ll be sitting around the table playing a game, or maybe gathered around the fire table on a warm evening, or literally doing the opposite of anything planned, and one of them will say,
“This is one of my favorite moments.”
Uhm. What?
No fast passes? No scenic vistas? No fireworks? Just this? Right here at home?
But the more I think about it, the more I realize they’re right.
It wasn’t a production.
There’s nothing happening in those moments. No plans, no reason for something to be done. It’s just us.
Laughing. Talking. Being silly and honest and not trying to do anything. There’s something about those unscripted moments that settle in deeper than anything we could’ve planned.
And if I’m honest — some of my favorite memories growing up are the same way.
Not the big, expensive trips (though those were awesome).
But the time my dad told my brother and sister and I to hop on our bikes and surprised us with Peanut Buster Parfaits at Dairy Queen. Or the time we made ice cream out of snow way past our bedtime. Those little, sacred, normal things that somehow became unforgettable.
The truth is, most of life isn’t made of highlights.
It’s made of Tuesdays.
Of car rides and conversations.
Of breakfasts.
Of showing up when no one’s watching.
Of just being there.
And that’s where the real stuff lives.
I think God is in those moments.
Not just the mountaintops, but the in-between.
The ordinary places where love shows up and grace does its quiet work.
Jesus didn’t spend every moment performing miracles.
He walked.
He ate.
He asked questions.
He noticed people.
Maybe we don’t need more perfect plans.
Maybe we just need to pay attention to the good things already happening right in front of us.
So here’s my reminder (to myself, mostly):
Keep planning the trips.
Keep celebrating the big stuff.
But don’t underestimate the power of a high stakes game of Uno.
Or a random Tuesday.
Or a giant pizza balloon that brings a smile the rest of the week.
Don’t underestimate the small moments, because those are the moments that stick.
Final thought:
The best moments in life often aren’t wrapped in bows or broadcasted online. They’re quietly unfolding in the background, while you’re just sitting around the fire table on a random Tuesday.
Duane S. Montague 