When my mother was 91 years old and six weeks before she died, she told me she was sorry for all the rocky years between us. Then she added, “I have many regrets, but…I’m still learning, don’t you see? It takes a lifetime to learn how to live.” Millennia earlier, the Roman philosopher Seneca wrote much the same thing.

There is wisdom hidden in everyday moments, but why is it so hard to stop long enough to notice them? Why does it take a lifetime?

I try to live in the present moment. I meditate every day, yet outside those quiet ten minutes, my mind races with worries that ricochet through my thoughts, especially in the dark hours of the night, when the devil seems to dance on my chest.

Over these past few days, I was blessed to spend time with my family in Pittsburgh. When my older brother glanced up from his reading and smiled, when my niece stopped to hug me on her way to prom, when my sister-in-law enjoyed a second helping of the chicken pastina soup I made — these were everyday lessons, answers to everyday prayers.

When I slow down and truly pay attention to a conversation, a fleeting kindness, a painful truth, or a small unexpected blessing, something shifts inside me. I breathe more deeply. I listen more carefully. I begin to understand what each moment is trying to teach me.

My prayer today is that you and I do not wait until we are 91 to learn this lesson. Each day quietly offers us another chance to become more patient, more compassionate, more awake to others and to ourselves.

I am still learning. Perhaps we always are.

Maybe it really does take a lifetime to learn how to live.