The biggest lesson my kids have taught me is to find the joy in

Karren Brady, a woman of vision and strength, once spoke with tenderness and truth: “The biggest lesson my kids have taught me is to find the joy in little things, along with a healthy dose of patience.” These words, though wrapped in simplicity, are radiant with wisdom. For in them lies the revelation that greatness is not found only in the vast and mighty, but also in the humble and small. And that to endure the trials of life, one must learn the art of patience, which tempers the fire of ambition with the calm of understanding.

To find joy in little things is to awaken to the hidden beauty of the world. Children, with their unclouded eyes, see wonder in a butterfly’s flight, in the laughter of rain, in the simplest smile. They remind us that life is not measured only by grand triumphs or towering monuments, but by the gentle moments that weave the fabric of our days. Too often, adults chase greatness so fiercely that they forget to live. Brady’s words call us back to this truth: joy is already scattered across our path, waiting only for eyes humble enough to see it.

The second gift her children gave her is patience. For children, in their innocence, do not move at the hurried pace of the world. They stumble, they ask endless questions, they resist the commands of time. To walk with them is to surrender to slowness, to wait, to guide, to endure. And in that waiting is the refinement of the soul. The parent learns that control is limited, that growth cannot be forced, and that love deepens most in seasons of patience.

History bears witness to this lesson. Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, who endured twenty-seven years in prison. In that long trial, he learned to be patient, to wait for the right moment, and to find small joys even within the harshness of captivity — the comfort of a book, the resilience of friendship, the hope of a brighter dawn. When at last freedom came, his patience had ripened into wisdom, enabling him to lead not with vengeance but with reconciliation. This is the same truth Brady names: that patience, though hard, transforms the heart into a vessel of strength.

Children, like life itself, are great teachers, and their lessons are not wrapped in grand speeches, but in the quiet rhythm of daily living. Their joy in the little things is a mirror, reflecting back to us what we once knew but have forgotten. Their demand for patience is a fire that purifies, stripping us of arrogance and teaching us to walk humbly, step by step. To heed these lessons is to become more human, more gentle, more wise.

The meaning of Brady’s words is clear: if you seek happiness, do not wait for mountains to move or oceans to part. Learn instead to treasure the small gifts scattered across your journey. If you seek strength, do not demand that life bend to your will; learn instead the steady discipline of patience, which endures and uplifts. These are the truths her children revealed, truths as old as time yet ever new.

Therefore, let the listener act: pause in your striving and notice the little things — the warmth of sunlight, the laughter of a friend, the peace of a quiet moment. Practice patience with others, and with yourself, for growth is slow and love takes time. Do not scorn these virtues as small, for they are the foundation of a joyful and enduring life. For as Karren Brady has spoken, the greatest teachers may be the smallest voices, and the greatest lessons may be those that teach us to slow down, to see, and to cherish what is already in our hands.