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Roald Dahl once said, “Above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you,  because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”

My mother is one of those people who believes in the magic.  As busy and demanding as her schedule is, being the mother of eight children and now a grandmother to fourteen, she has never lost sight of her ability to celebrate and relish the simplest of life’s pleasures, to draw out the wonders of each and every day, and to see the extraordinary in even the most ordinary of things. 

In turn, my mother always worked hard to instill those same abilities in her children.  That’s why at our house growing up, January didn’t just mean the month after Christmas or snowy days when kids go back to school. Instead, it meant warm snowflake-shaped pancakes, learning about polar animals and ice crystals, and snuggling up for storytime with books about Jack Frost and wintery wonderlands. Just as summer didn’t mean lazy days when children’s minds grow dull with video games and idle pastimes. Instead, our summers came alive with magic as my mother aimed to inspire and expand our young minds and spirits by turning each week of the summer into a different adventure, complete with crafts, books, field trips, activities and special treats! There was an “Under the Sea” Week, a “Creatures of the Night” week, an “I Believe I Can Fly” week, and even a “Back to the Days of Pooh” week.  With each, she would introduce us to culture, music, literature, and prose, while encouraging our imaginations to run rampant  and our curiosity to thrive.  For my mother, you see, time-honored traditions are not just reserved for holidays, but for nearly every day of the year.  “I wanted to fill my children’s lives with wonder,” she told me once, “to teach them to revel in the richness of the seasons, to experience life to the utmost and to cling to the magic of childhood.”

All grown-up and a mother now myself, however, I found one August afternoon that I had started to forget how to cling to that magic. I had recently graduated with my Masters degree, and expected to have a lot more time on my hands to enjoy  being a stay-at-home mom. However, somewhere between the diaper changes and around the clock feedings,  I felt busier than I ever had before, and stared at my ever lengthening to-do list with a feeling of discouragement.  There just always seemed to be so much on my plate and as my focus turned to all that needed to get done, I quietly mourned the fact that the coming Fall, a time of year I used to look forward to with immense anticipation, had begun to lose its luster amid the mounting responsibilities.

That's when I looked at my beautiful son playing on the floor. Watching him,  I thought about the newness of his little life. The world still held so much wonder for him, so much magic in the simplest and smallest of things and I realized how easy it is as adults to let our days be filled with only the humdrum of to-do’s.  I needed somehow to get back to those childhood days- to learn to see again the wonder and glory of each passing day and season in the way I did as a child. In the way my son did now. And most of all, I wanted to ensure that my son’s beautiful sense of wonder wouldn’t fade. I needed to safeguard it, to nurture it, to expand it, in the way my mother always had with mine.

I knew just where to turn. Calling my mom on the phone she shared with me the insightful words of Rachel Carson:

"A child's world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement.  It is our own misfortune that for most of us, that clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood.  If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder...he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in."    

There was a pause over the phone, as if to let the wisdom of those words sink in, and then she said, "Start now!  Don't wait until your to-do list is done, or you have more time, more kids, or more money. Take your little boy by the hand and set off on the adventure of  'rediscover[ing] with him the joy, excitement and mystery.' Relish each day, savor each season, focus on the beauty and wonder that is to be had.”

My mother’s counsel breathed new life into me, and hanging up the phone I knew just what needed to be done. Starting this September, I would begin by incorporating my mother’s traditions into my own life- to fill my home and heart with her language of ritual and celebration, to draw out the wonders of each passing day and to savor the sweetness of each season.  

    And I hope that as I embark on this journey of re-awakening my “inborn sense of wonder” that I might help to inspire not only my son, but others, to hold onto their childlike wonder and sense of adventure. And most of all, to believe in the magic.