What makes you come alive?

A couple of Fridays ago, Cate and I went downtown to meet a friend for lunch. I spotted a parking spot blocks away from the restaurant and pulled in. As I fed the meter, I looked around at the traffic and prepared to wrangle my full of energy 3-year-old. I waited until there was a lull in the traffic to open the back passenger door and pull her out, dictating instructions—hold my hand, stay with mommy—as we moved quickly to the sidewalk. 

We walked hand-in-hand down King Street, and Cate was like wow, look at this cool place! And I realized how many times I'd walked this sidewalk, and as much as I love Charleston and being downtown, Cate was noticing it all for the first time. If I'd been by myself that day, I would have walked much faster, and I certainly wouldn't have seen the street the way she did.

Mommy, look at those tall trees. Those are too high to climb!

Then we stopped by the clothing store, marveling at the headless mannequin donning a plaid shirt. That's scary! she said.

Later, after lunch, she stopped at this staircase leading up to some office spaces. I'm not sure that I'd ever seen this staircase before, maybe in pictures. Maybe, in the past, the door had been closed. But Cate noticed it. 

Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

I love that quote. It stirs up something—relief, a yes—every time I come across it. 

I've learned that the answer to what makes me come alive? isn't always obvious, but it can and does reveal itself. Simply. It's a subtle aha. A flash of awareness. I've also learned that the answer can change over time.

Or. Maybe it just takes a while to get to the truest answer of all. 

I'd say on that afternoon, during those moments on the sidewalk, I felt present. When I'm fully present, a sense of coming alive often follows. 

Take yesterday, for example. My middle child Blake was home sick, and we spent more quality time together than our busy, always-moving life typically allows. We read and reviewed flash cards and worked on math problems.

I realized that while a coming alive moment can happen outside, in the sun, in the midst of inspiring quotes, more and more often, they are happening for me when I'm home, away from the world, in the midst of the most ordinary of circumstances. 

I call it my "mopping epiphany". Am I'm the only one who comes alive while mopping? 

Again, I think it all comes back to those moments when we catch ourselves being fully present, and engaged.