Small moments

Last night one of our beagles, Frank, was going through a bit of a stressful spell.  Pacing, panting, shaking, Dean and I were both concerned and unsure how to help him.  So we decided a walk might cheer him up.  It was 9 p.m., about 20 degrees outside, and the outside world was covered in snow and ice.  I couldn't think of anything I would rather do than take the boys for a stroll.

So we harnessed up the dogs, threw on several layers of clothing, and headed out into the night.  Our journey led us up to the high school softball fields, where the snow was deep and as of yet untouched and pristine.  

Then we were off.  Running through the fluffy whiteness, holding onto the leashes for dear life as our dogs dragged us helplessly along.  We finally stopped, gasping for breath, feeling the burn in our legs, and suddenly not feeling quite as cold as when we first started out.  But our small break was short lived, for soon the beagles caught a scent and we were once again off to the races.  Racing along behind the dogs, I laughed at the way their floppy ears flew back behind them as they ran, or how they had to hop like rabbits in order to navigate through the deep snow.   At our next stopping point Dean and I smiled at each other as the beagles buried their noses in the snow, sniffing at scents only their hyper active noses could detect.

It was a small moment, an easy moment.  Just one of many that will make up the larger portion of my life.  And it was a happy one. 

Sometimes it's easy for us to get caught up in the overall big picture of our lives.  We lose ourselves to big outcomes and huge events, forgetting that the entirety of our lives are made up of small moments, and it's only when we string all these moments together that we arrive at the huge end result. 

It's easy to forget, to dismiss, the small events in our lives.  The brief moments when we smile, laugh, or share a moment with someone special.  How often do we put on the blinders to times like this because we are too busy, too preoccupied with something bigger to appreciate what is going on right in front of us?   I feel like all to often we don't believe we will be happy until something big happens to us.  Until something truly monumental comes our way.  And yet it's the simple things, the daily and seemingly meaningless occurrences that will sometimes bring us the greatest happiness.

As we walked home last night from the softball field, covered in snow and rosy cheeked from the cold air, I knew this was one of those small moments.  Just another night, just another dog walk, but a moment filled with effortless happiness.

And by the time we returned home, Frank was back to normal.  Perhaps beagles are able to appreciate these moments as well.