At one point in time, the fear of losing touch with all things “kid” seemed like a legitimate concern. My siblings were growing up and my own family still a dream and prayer. But thankfully, there is no shortage of children in my life with many of my friends and siblings now deeply involved in heaven’s great mission of raising families.

On winter days, I relive the adventure of building blanket forts and taking breaks to drink dangerous amounts of hot cocoa (containing more marshmallows than cocoa, of course). On summer days, I learn everything there is to know about sharks and giant squid, how to ride scooters, and all about the proper care of a centipede. And on any given day, I might be so lucky as to catch a baby smile in exchange for a performance of The Cuppycake Song. (Is that not the sweetest thing you have ever heard?)

This is not the song that inspired the title of this post. But it was one such link to childhood that recently drew me into a new and powerful view of own my life; something I am still learning how to see and appreciate in every single day.  It all started as Faith and I began a three-day road-trip pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in LaCrosse, Wisconsin.

*If you follow us on Facebook, you know a little more about the behind-the-scenes to this adventure – as well as the why, how, and when. You can also watch our videos on YouTube to dive into the heart of our journey!*

Within minutes of commencing our road-trip north, Faith and I managed to find pizza, a smoothie, and deep conversation. Was that a surprise? Hardly! In no time, we were on our way to Wisconsin, digging deep into the movements of our lives, families, and even the hopes and plans for our trip. (All while definitely not starving.)

“Can you believe we are doing this?” I asked. We had been talking about this trip for months, making AirBnb reservations, researching ice cream shops in the area, and putting new breaks on my car (in no particular order of priority).

The joy of cruising along the highway was so much more than the trip itself for me at that moment: it was the action of doing it. So much of my life is spent thinking about tomorrow, practically planning out a course for my life in big and small ways. In the case of this pilgrimage, I found myself grateful and proud of Faith and me for not just talking about going to this holy place together, but seizing the opportunity to go.

Faith agreed with me as I tried to explain all of this to her while she navigated the GPS. But instead of simply agreeing and moving on, she then called me on to something higher in a way I did not see coming.

“It’s just like Daniel Tiger…” she began. “You know Daniel Tiger, right?” I wracked my brain for the memory of a tiger and how it could connect to my reflection. As Faith began to describe the latest children’s show, it all suddenly came back to me: Mr. Rodgers, King Friday, Gina and the calm and wise world in which Daniel Tiger and I were both raised.  “Oh, THAT Daniel Tiger…” I mused.

I expected Faith to dive into a story about the character of Daniel Tiger. To my surprise, she began to sing a song from the storyline itself:

“Enjoy the wow that’s happening now…”

I was stunned. Gone was the satisfaction of looking back at the planning and preparing it took to make this trip happen. Gone was the plan and purpose we had given to the journey ahead of us. This simple little ditty hit me like the proverbial two-by-four. The happiness I felt in that moment had little to do with everything behind and before me and had everything to do with what was right in front of me – the present moment.

Just like that (and because this tune was incredibly difficult to shake!) the lyrics to a children’s song defined every movement and theme of our three day road-trip pilgrimage together.

Instead of rushing to our AirBnB that night, we took the time to veer off the main road and watch the sunset over the Mississippi River. We attended a later Mass than originally planned the next day so we could be rested and refreshed, unknowingly providing ourselves extra time to explore the Shrine’s grottos on the path to the chapel. A bag of lettuce and a frozen pizza became our dinner of choice one night in place of a nice restaurant, affording us a chance to curl up on the couch to listen to our favorite podcasts and the sound of rain on the roof.

In the midst of these and so many other unexpected joys, one of us would inevitably start to sing, “Enjoy the wow that’s happening now…” My happiness was no longer in the satisfaction of achieving the moment, it was in embracing the moment – the “wow” happening now. 

It called me out of the lies looking back at my life – mistakes, wounds, regrets. It freed me from the weariness of planning out how life “should” go. It pulled me back from becoming worried or discouraged at my future. It satisfied everything I needed right when I needed it. God truly is in the present moment and only asks me to embrace it as a gift sent by Him – simply to make me happy.

Yes.

Our good Lord wants to make you and me happy, and He demonstrates this to us countless times in the minute of every day. I don’t know about you, but I am often too busy looking backward or forward to notice the happiness “here.”

St. Gianna Beretta Molla – the saint at the heart of our adventure – knew this all too well. As Faith and I began packing up for our journey home, I came across a quote I had written down just a few weeks before. I smiled when read it again and aloud,

“The secret of happiness is to live moment by moment and to thank God for all that He, in His goodness, sends to us day after day.”

Perhaps this was the whole point of our entire trip – to find the secret of happiness by living and loving every moment well.

The trip itself is long over, but the wisdom of the journey remains. Now, when I find myself all-too-often worrying about the future or going back over the past, I try to draw my heart toward the present moment. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.

My “wow” is happening now.