The morning was warm, for January. Michael even said as much as I buckled him into his car seat for our trip to school.
That’s when we heard the geese flying overhead. A flock of maybe 40 Canadian geese were honking their way across the sky, heading vaguely eastward.
“That’s a good sign, Michael,” I started.
“Why?”
“It means spring is coming. Warmer weather,” I said.
We watched as the flock neared, flying not far over the treetops. Then, they stopped honking.
And in the complete silence of no more than fifteen seconds, Michael and I heard something we’d never heard before: the whistling of flapping wings. It was amazing.
“Do you hear that?” I asked in a hushed tone.
“Yes! What is it?”
“It’s their wings!”
Still it continued: a series of rhythmic whistles as the each goose’s wingtips whooshed through the air, propelling them forward.
In all of my 46 years I have never heard that sound. It was a magical moment, one to be savored. Joyful moments are like that. They happen, and then they’re done. And even though they’re gone forever, a part of them stays with you.
And then one began honking, then a couple more, and soon the whole flock was cheering on their leader as they sped on their way, and by that time the honking was all that could be heard.
“That was amazing!” I said, finally. Michael agreed, and I shut his door, got into the driver’s seat and backed out of the driveway.
As we drove to school, the conversation switched from the sound of geese’s wings to more important things like people waiting for buses, McDonald’s Chicken Nuggets, dogs and real estate signs festooned with balloons.
“I want my whole family to pick me up today,” Michael said out of the blue.
The day before, because I’d come home early, I went with my wife and stepdaughter to pick Michael up. Usually it’s just one of us going to get him, but that day it was both parents plus a sister. That was a huge deal for Michael, and he nearly exploded with joy when he saw us there.
“Wow, the whole family came to get you!” one of the teachers exclaimed (little did she know that if the whole family had come, there wouldn’t have been room for us all in the entryway). It made Michael very happy that he had so many loved ones to accept him and whisk him off.
“Michael, that was a one-time deal. We were all there to pick you up yesterday, but it won’t always be that way.”
“Awww….” He groaned, clearly disappointed.
I knew what he wanted, and why.
He’d had a moment of unbridled joy. When he saw us all there, when his teachers said “Look who’s here for you, Michael!” he was overjoyed.
And he wanted that joy again. And why not? It’s standard kid practice to try to replicate whatever situation or circumstance that led to a joyful moment.
But like with the geese, the moment of joy happens and then passes. It can’t be reproduced. Even if the same things happen exactly the same way, it won’t be the same. This is human nature at work.
What I hope to teach my children is that the trick is to recognize when you are in the midst of one of these joyful moments, and savor it to the fullest. I want them to learn how to be happy for the joy they’ve had, and to be hopeful for the joys to come.
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January 28th, 2010 - 9:54 am
Wow. That is something I always need to remind myself and is beautifully written.
I can’t get hopeful about the geese though. We have them year round and it is bitterly cold out right now.
(MD) I need the reminder myself, and often. Sometimes God just slaps me in the face with it, like he did the other day. Sorry it’s still so cold there.
January 28th, 2010 - 10:03 am
Great, great post. I’ve heard that sound, it’s incredible.
What’s funny about when I actually get to pick Abby up (about twice a month) all of the other kids are more excited than she is. That’s because I’ll take a few minutes to dance around or listen to someone’s story about their bandaid. Abby is like “meh, let’s get fruit snacks!”
I’m working to break that habit, but it’s more my wife than my daughter…
Here’s to more special moments from inside and out.
(MD) Some kids are pleased by things you wouldn’t expect. It’s nice that you’re popular there!
January 28th, 2010 - 11:13 am
I’ve heard that sound sitting on my back porch. It’s in Geese territory.
Very beautiful thoughts. Wish it was warm here. Looking at more snow tonight.
(MD) Thank you for your kind words. I hear it’s cold a lot of places. We’ve had it unusually warm here this winter. They say we get at least 12 sub-freezing days in January, but this year we haven’t had even one. We got all of our cold out of the way back in November.
January 28th, 2010 - 1:51 pm
Great description of how Michael felt being picked-up. It is great to know that everyone loves you and came to bring you home! It is the little things.
(MD) I’ve heard it said more and more, and I agree, that the happy things you really remember are the little incidental things. I strive to make those little incidental things enjoyable.
January 29th, 2010 - 4:08 pm
Gosh, and all I think about when geese are overhead is I hope they don’t drop anything!
I can feel Michael’s pleasure at having the whole family pick him up!
(MD) Well, in all honesty that was one of the things that crossed my mind – you never know when they’re going to let loose.
January 30th, 2010 - 1:11 am
I love that post. I also love when I see fat robins in the trees at about this time of year, a sure sign that spring will come. And geese overhead . . . and happy kids. All around awesomeness. Love how you captured this.
(MD) I’m really glad you stopped by! The arrival of spring is one of my favorite things. I don’t mind winter too much, but the period between January 1 and whenever spring shows up is always a long, dark tunnel that I can’t wait to escape.
January 30th, 2010 - 1:35 am
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by WeaselMomma, RobAnnyAbby Monroe, MichaelsDaddy, and others. MichaelsDaddy said: The Measure of Joy http://bit.ly/aBzE5h [...]
January 30th, 2010 - 3:47 am
That was a very special read and message imparted, Tom. Thank you.
(MD) And thank you for dropping by, Chuck! Always good to see you.
January 30th, 2010 - 12:28 pm
Wish I could get the slide show but this was to my way of thinking a perfect blog:
full of mystery and wonder and gratitude as well.
Should get it published somewhere my good man!!!
Love, Mom
(MD) Thanks, mom. Glad you liked it.
January 30th, 2010 - 1:35 pm
Thank you for sharing such a great and well written post. Those times are indeed special and the tension between the joy and the longing is a powerful one.
(MD) Thanks for dropping by. It’s hard to see him learning some hard and sad lessons, but I know it will make him a better man.
January 30th, 2010 - 5:45 pm
The measure of joy. I had forgotten about it until recently. During my self-imposed break I remembered to captured those moments in my heart and my memories. I understand Michael’s disappointment. Don’t we all want to repeat those moments that give us such happiness? I’ve learned the hard way we can’t repeat those moments. I’ve also learned by bringing them to the forefront of our minds, we can experience the joy, maybe in a muted way, but those memories still leave us feeling good.
I’ve been hearing the honking of the geese here, but, alas, no warm weather has followed. We just got through a week of frigid. Today my co-workers and I were remarking that 25 degrees seemed warm. Of course, the sun was out.
(MD) It’s so important to learn to recognize those times, and drink them in. It took me many years to figure that out; to unlearn the notion that you can replicate a special time.
February 1st, 2010 - 1:39 pm
Beautiful post. I got lost for a while with thoughts of geese but you brought me back with a great story about Michael’s joy and a great lesson too. Thanks for sharing.
I got lost on the geese because my dad raised Canada Geese when I was a kid. We had 12. Let me share a sound you don’t want to hear, a goose hissing. The are very territorial. I once had one chase me until I jumped the gate to get away.
Again, great post.
(MD) Yeah, I have seen enough second-hand evidence of geese and their aggressive nature that I don’t ever intend to get closer than 100 yards if I can help it. As long as they don’t land in my backyard and poop all over, they’re okay.