What is.

Autumn has begun sprinkling red and yellow on the trees. Yesterday, I sat in the backyard, watching as the leaves gently fell to the ground. The temperature was so pleasant with a slight breeze. There was still a warmth that kept our jackets hung in the closet; but the coolness in the breeze made it clear that a change is on its way.

As I sat enjoying the beauty of the day, I was surrounded by all my children. We sat out in the glory of the day for a few hours, just soaking in the pleasantness of the company, and the autumn beauty that captivated enough to keep us from wanting to go inside.

As we gathered together, we talked. Some of us were in chairs, one of us was up a tree, and the other was jumping on the trampoline. We talked about everything, nothing was off-limits. Some things spoken of were important, and some things were just trivial things that caused smiles and laughter. There were no distractions. It was just us, as a family, being together, and it felt fabulous. 

One of our more interesting conversations turned to the question, "What if?" As in, what if daddy had not died? We all started guessing what life might be like now, and over the past few years, had he lived, instead of died.  We were not speaking in a sorrowful way, but purely out of curiosity and wonder. We could only guess at how things would have gone, and what might have been. We could only speculate at the alternate outcomes of the story; because our story clearly has us on a different journey. It is a journey with no end, with an endless amount of todays, that make up forever.

As we were having this discussion, Sammi said, "We cannot ask: What if? We can only ask: What is?" You can "what if?" the past, and "what if?" the future, but the answer is in the: what is? As in, what is happening right now. Not one of us can change the events of the past, or determine the exact course of the future (we can prepare, but not predict).

What we have is now.

As we focus on what is in front of us -- and less on what might have been, or what might be -- that is when life becomes more clear, love can be felt more deeply, and joy can pierce the heart.

As I looked at all of my children gathered around me, surrounded by an autumn glow, I felt peace. My heart was filled-up by how much I love each one of them, and all their individual charm. I enjoyed the blueness of Daniel's eyes, the golden sparkles in Sammi's hair, the freckles on William's nose, and the energy of Henry's feet. I was not thinking of the past, or the future. I was just being completely in that moment.

And that moment was glorious.