Fireflies...and slowing down

It was dusk. The kids were in their pj's and settling into bed. Kevin was at a meeting. And for some reason, in the midst of the bedtime routine, I sat down on the stairs. I didn't rush to finish dishes, fold the laundry, or clean up the messy post-bathtime bathroom. I didn't even grab my phone to check email. Instead, I plopped down on the stairs and stared out the front windows.

And there it was - a flicker of light, out of the corner of my eye. Then another. And another. Before long, my yard was aglow with dozens of fireflies. I just sat there for awhile, soaking in the beauty of a gorgeous night. I sat there remembering my first encounter with fireflies as a 14-year-old on a trip to Nauvoo, IL. Even as a moody teenager, fireflies were magical.

And then I wanted to share them with my children. So up the stairs I ran, and pulled them out of bed, to join me in this magical moment. We ran around, with that magical air and magical light all around us, and caught fireflies. We caught them and we let them go, over and over again. Dad came home and wondered what in the world was going on, and then he joined us in the fun. Because when fireflies are out, bedtime can wait.