Last night, Dan and I finished watching the HBO Films series John Adams. I think this last episode was my favorite. It was the only where I cried, but it was also so much about Abigail and John Adams reflecting on their lives as they reached the end of them.

In a final scene, John Adams is walking along a cornfield at dusk with his son, Thomas. His wife has died, all of his peers but Thomas Jefferson have passed away and this is what he has to stay:

"Still, still I am not weary of life. Strangely. I have hope. You take away hope and what remains? What pleasures? I have seen a queen of France with eighteen million levers of diamonds on her persons, but I declare that all the charms of her face and figure, added to all the glitter of her jewels, did not impress me as much as that little shrub. (pointing with his walking stick to a small white flower in the field.)
Now my mother always said that I never delighted enough in the mundane, but now I find that if I look at even the smallest thing...my imagination begins to roam the Milky Way. Rejoice evermore. Rejoice Evermore! ...REJOICE! EVERMORE! I wish that had always been in my heart and on my tongue. I am filled with an irresistible impulse to fall on my knees right here in admiration....If only my knees would bend like they used to. "

Must we reach the end of our days for us to find delight in the mundane? For our hearts to rejoice at all times? For the smallest flower to stir our imagination? I surely hope not.

Tonight, I noticed the cool breeze on my bare skin, a group of dark cattle grazing on the hill below the old stone church, my children running and falling and laughing in the grass with their father, a moment of quiet, just for me.

Those words of John Adams stirred something inside me. They once again reminded me to fill my heart and my days with thankfulness, hope, joy, curiosity. To take pleasure in the smallest flower, the most mundane tasks oftentimes repeated day after day after day. To notice. To not grow weary.