On Entering The Moment...

His back toward the building, his sly brown eyes watched around us as we chatted. Adjusting his low-riding pants, he told me of his arrangement to buy a friend’s Ritalin prescription. I wondered what Ritalin would do to someone who didn’t need it. Two years later, I saw him again, in a mall food court. We chatted briefly, the whole time his aged eyes darted from side to side, unable to maintain focus. He squirmed and wiggled on the hard chair like a three year old. It was impossible to carry on any kind of conversation…

There was a time when I savoured stillness beneath trees, pondering in the silence. It feels like a life time ago, but I remember dining for the experience – slow selection of each leaf from my salad, entering some other dimension as I fully tasted each morsel… I was thinner then…

Now, should I find myself alone in silence, instead of drifting into some amazing epiphany, the mind fills with … stuff.  Lists of things to be done, schedules, the future… they all flip through faster than I can name, and each races to beat some invisible clock.

In the car, fingers turn knobs and press buttons; endlessly, constantly adjusting. Move away from commercials, toward a good beat. Turn it up for one song, down for another. … maybe another station is playing something better… click click click.

At the desk, fingers tap letters into words. Two paragraphs in, a thoughtful pause allows the mind to wander. Fingers migrate to the mouse to keep pace. Check one site, respond on another. … Maybe something else is more interesting than this… click click click.

The body twitches and mind bustles with noise…

But sometimes, I’m able to pause to enter the moment and see it – my children laughing and playing, dusk setting tree tops ablaze, poplar leaves fluttering like butterflies in the breeze.  In these moments of full presence, – content – quiet – willingness to be here and nowhere else – the wallpaper of everyday, bursts to 3D life, and I can touch the joy of it.

When I’m fully present I find His presence.

Lord, thank you for these precious moments of pause – even in the noise. Teach me to enter into each day with thanks and open eyes. Thank you for this moment, right now, with you. 


Linking up with Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience: