Marking the Moments That Matter: The Seasoned Lady teaching her grandkids to mark and treasure all the special seasons along the way

There’s a beauty in making certain moments feel momentous. Not everything in life needs to be celebrated with cake and balloons, but some things—those small shifts that signal “you’re growing up”—deserve to be noticed, remembered, and marked with care. And each individual, male and female alike, need to know that they are seen, recognized as special and unique, and invested in.

When I was twelve, my parents bought me my first pair of high heels. It was the 1970s, so naturally, we’re talking platform shoes with a very modest one-inch lift. But to me? I might as well have been on stilts. I remember how tall and elegant I felt, how suddenly grown I imagined I must look. That simple moment stood as a kind of landmark in my memory—an invisible dot on the timeline of my girlhood turning into womanhood.

We tried to carry on that spirit of intentional milestones with our daughters. At age ten, each of our girls was taught basic firearm safety and how to use one properly—a very Southeastern rite of passage, and no, they never had access to them afterward without adult supervision, in case you're questioning our sanity. It wasn’t about the object. It was about responsibility and trust.

At fifteen, they received their first makeup lessons—no YouTube back then—and a little starter kit. Again, it wasn’t about the lipstick or mascara. It was about them knowing they were seen. That we acknowledged their shift into young womanhood, and we would walk with them through it, not just stand on the sidelines hoping they figured it all out.

Every one of those moments came with conversations—about responsibility, about choices, about being good neighbors and better humans. There were boundaries and accountability, yes, but also a sense of wonder and excitement about who they were becoming.

Another Generation Marks The Moments

Now, I’m watching our oldest daughter carry on the tradition. She’s found ways to mark the milestones in her own children’s lives. For her, it’s a solo-with-mom trip to the grandparents when they turn ten, and a solo-with-grandparents trip when they become teenagers.

This week, we had the gift of hosting our second grandchild for her “I’m 13 now” week. Marking her Moments, as it were. She’s a quiet, thoughtful soul—the peacemaker in a lively crew of five siblings. Having her to ourselves was such a gift. For her, it meant a break from feeling like the glue that holds everyone else together. For us, it meant leaning in, asking questions, listening closely, and letting her take the lead.

We started with a coffee date to plan the week—nothing fancy, just warm mugs and an open calendar. First stop? Hobby Lobby, where she chose fabric to sew her own apron, yarn to crochet a granny-square poncho and a handful of other crafting items to fill her week. She’s nearly finished with the poncho, and I have to say, it’s darling.

One day we went to Balboa Park to visit museums, especially the art museum, where she laid eyes on original works by Monet, Cezanne, Georgia O’Keeffe and many others. But it was the Dutch hyper-realists who captured her heart. “This is my favorite style right now,” she said, with such clarity and conviction, I could almost see her future self forming in front of me.

We caught an evening concert in the park, where she tried to guess which movie or Broadway show the music came from. We spent an afternoon painting ceramics, had our nails done at a salon (a rite of passage in itself), and—possibly her favorite—attended a live production of Oklahoma! She’s been in youth drama performances before, but this was her first time seeing adults on stage. She was captivated.

We also hit a few fun spots for food—hibachi dinner with a chef doing all the classic flaming onion tricks, a handful of local eateries that expanded her palate, and finally, her very first trip to In-N-Out. Her grandfather made that promise, and we weren’t about to break it.

Now she’s back home. Piano practice, homeschooling, swim lessons, and the daily dance of life with four siblings and two parents trying to hold it all together. But for just a week, she had space to exhale. She got to be the main character in her own story.

I hope she remembers this trip not just for the yarn, the food, or the Monet. I hope she remembers how loved she felt, how seen. That she crossed a new threshold in life—and someone was waiting there to cheer her on.

We will never regret the moments we invest in the individuals who were given to our family. Making them feel the security of family and know that we want to help them become the person they were beautifully and wonderfully designed to be.

Because those are the moments that stick. And when we mark them with care, we don’t just honor who they are—we help shape who they become. We assure them that they are not alone, but accompanied by a family that will always walk the journey along side them.