The quiet nudges from heaven

One Little Leaf

by Emily Freeman

It was a typical busy Saturday. We were running late.  Again.

With all of the kids in tow we were rushing from game to game, trying to remember shoes, jerseys, jackets, keys.

We pulled up to my son’s game and started running in.  His shirt was inside out so I was trying to flip that around while running alongside him and making sure my daughter didn’t run into the street.

All the while, I was pushing him and the rest of the kids along with a “hurry, hurry.”

I felt like I was herding cats.

We were about to go into the door, which was being held open by a gentleman we didn’t know,

 mixing in with the swarms of people coming and going.

I think the door holding man got stuck in service for a good ten minutes

Right in the midst of all of that my son turned around in a jolt, like he had forgotten something, and ran back.

Before I could get the scold out of my mouth I saw him run up next to a single, solitary fallen leaf on the sidewalk.

He reared up his leg, gave it a good stomp, giggled, then ran right back into the gym at full speed.

I rolled my eyes with a smiling smirk.

I was so impressed with the lesson that he taught me to slow down, that I applied it right then and there.

I stopped the sea of pressing parents to take a picture of that little leaf.

And they all must have thought I was nuts!

But I like my picture of the little leaf that Christian crunched.

A little leaf that is going to remind me not be moving so fast.

Or I might miss the chance.

To see, or to hear, or to feel something.

The quiet nudges from heaven.

Divine errands that need running.

Compassionate detours.

Or maybe just the crackling sounds of fall.