Candle in the Wind

Tonight, upon learning we no longer had a working lighter in the house, Allison made a pronouncement.

"It's impossible for me to take a bath without a candle going."

I doubt she'll go without a bath tonight, but I rather like what she had to say about what's important to her. 

There are lots of ways we let others know what's important to us.  Sometimes, it's in what we refuse to do without.  Other times, in what we avoid at all costs.  And, still others, it's what we'll give up to keep the peace.

Teaching our kids how to choose where to place their own notices of importance is one of the trickiest, most valuable things we can do as parents.  And, more often than not, we're probably teaching these things without even realizing it.  Who among us hasn't been exhausted by someone who doesn't seem to know how to let go of something or how to discern between what matters and what doesn't?  Who among us hasn't been that person ourselves?

And then I come back to that candle, that bath.  Surely, valuing a quiet pleasure, while neither earth-shattering nor life-altering, nonetheless represents a willingness to shift gears.  To sit.  To do nothing but be and watch the dancing shapes against the wall.  It is an act both simple and representative of something larger. 

My point is that we shouldn't feel like all of our own notices of importance have to be nailed upon great and vast things.  In fact, I'd recommend just the opposite.  Sure, it's good to have a handful of "big ideas" that we cling furiously to.  But we'd be fools to overlook the importance of small and simple things.  Like a game of Scrabble with friends or the pleasure of a small candle dancing atop the rim of the bath, while we slip into the steamy water, nary a thought in our minds.