I'm sitting here in my recliner, feet up, laptop perched on my lap (appropriate, I suppose) at 8:00 this Sunday morning, waking up with facebook, email, and womenetcetera while I sip my pumpkin-spice coffee with French vanilla creamer. I've been up more than half an hour and I'm actually ready for my second cup of coffee. I'm easing into my day because this week, it's the only day I can. I'm savoring these moments of peace and quiet. The heating pad against my back is melting away the ache that settled in during the night.

Yesterday we spent a few hours at our 3-year old nephew's birthday party, as did a dozen of his screaming pre-school classmates. Fortunately a few of our daughters were there, as was our 4 1/2 year-old grandson. He wouldn't get into the pool until Grandpa came out to swim with him. Once Grandpa appeared, any observer would have thought our Tristan was the birthday boy. Grandpa sat on the edge of the pool and Tristan pushed and pushed on the elder's back until both splashed into the water. Grandpa threw Tristan in several times, and after he bobbed up from under the water to catch his breath each time, Tristan wanted more! In those moments the other kids' cacophony didn't bother me; I relished the sound of Tristan's laughter. I delighted in the pure joy he was experiencing with Grandpa.

Amid the daily frustrations of life, I am looking for moments that count. Moments to capture and cling to that nourish the places inside me that often feel barren. When I find them, they remind me that life is about just such moments. They remind me of the overused expression that I like so well..."life isn't measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away."

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