pray. - Today is Not Only the Present; It is a Present.
It was another early morning for me. Monday is boot camp morning. The morning is still dark when I wake up and leave my house. It's dark when I arrive at the park, but the sun begins to rise during our workout, and I have seen some beautiful sunrises on these Monday and Wednesday mornings. Today's sunrise caught my eye as I was leaving the park.
I was at the stoplight making a right turn. When I looked to the left to check for oncoming traffic, the sunrise caught my eye. A smile crept across my lips and almost instantly I let out a sigh of relief as if I had just recognized how lucky I was to be alive (and not only because I survived boot camp).
How often do we remember to be grateful for the breath of life we take each morning when our alarm rudely awakes us from our peaceful slumber? How often do we wish we could ignore the alarm of life and continue to sleep? I take the sound of my alarm for granted on a daily basis-always wishing for more rest, more time in bed, more time to delay the start of the "daily grind." We're all guilty of it.
Instead of resisting I should be embracing.
The sound of the alarm is a signal of a new day God has granted me. The signal of a new day to be a better me. The signal of a new day to be kinder to strangers. The signal of a new day to forgive those who have hurt me. The signal of a new day to show compassion for those in need. The signal of a new day to give the gift of learning to a child. The signal of a new day to give grace to the grocery store clerk who's in a bad mood, because she's barely hanging onto life. The signal of a new day to extend pure love and to love harder. The signal of a new day to allow God to work within me and bring me peace-right here in the midst of this chaotic world.
Instead of resisting I should be embracing.
This breath is a daily present which isn't guaranteed. It's temporary. It's only promised from moment to moment.
About a month ago, our elderly neighbor came knocking on our door. He has lived next door since my husband was born, and he has watched my husband grow into a man. (In case you're wondering, we live in my husband's childhood home). His two younger children are best friends with my husband. There's history in this relationship with our neighbor.
He really likes to talk, and he is very set in his ways and strong in his opinions. He is a Purple Heart Veteran, a conservative, a southern baptist, and a Clemson fan (I try not to hold that one against him). One afternoon, prior to his knock on our door, we were standing on the sidewalk babbling about various subject matters. I had mentioned a desire to visit the local Unitarian Church. His response, "Oh, the crazies? You don't want to do that. You aren't like them." I smiled and forced a chuckle and let him proceed with his opinions about those "liberals" and "crazies" that attend that there Unitarian Church. In his own truth, he had valid reasons to believe what he believed. But, that's it, it was his truth, and who was I to tell him his truths were "wrong" simply because his truths were "wrong" for me? Instead, I listened and took it in and accepted the fact that we had different truths. It didn't impact our relationship, because his truths didn't make him any less kind or loving. We ultimately want the same things - a more peaceful world, more kindness and consideration, more respect, more compassion, more happiness, more love.
So, back to the day he knocked on our door. We had not seen him in awhile. He lives next door part time. The rest of the time he lives in Beaufort. He sat down on our piano bench and caught us up on his life. His health had not been well, and he had faced some grim times. You could tell he was feeling his age and a bit down about it. My husband and I just listened and tried the best we could to give encouragement. He asked my husband if he'd be interested and willing to do some work at his house, and so, they discussed what needed to be done. Then, he started telling us about the baseball game the night before. He lit up. Tim Tebow's minor league baseball team was in Greenville for a few nights playing our local team, the Greenville Drive. He was so happy about seeing Tim Tebow play. He pulled out his phone to show us pictures which led into a conversation about downloading his pictures onto his computer. My husband leaned down beside him at the kitchen table and was helping him navigate the ins and outs of the phone and how to get his pictures downloaded. I was across the table observing the situation. What I observed taught me a little more about compassion, patience, and love.
Here was an elderly man with political views, religious beliefs, and life opinions far from our own, but our love extended far beyond that. We all knew each other as people-as individuals-as humans. We understood each other's hearts. I looked at my husband while he was leaning over helping our neighbor and was so proud to be married to him. Right there in that moment, when he could be doing so many other things, he looked perfectly content helping someone else. His patience, benevolence, and love was pure. He was extending it to our neighbor out of a desire to help him. It was a powerful moment to be standing in. And, I'm thankful I was standing in it-standing in it fully aware of the moment.
I wasn't resisting. I was embracing.
A few weeks ago, Matt and I were in a restaurant. Being the people watcher that I am, I was watching a married couple sitting near us. By their interaction with each other and body language, I sensed tension within their marriage. Most of the time, people don't have to announce the tension in the room for everyone to see it or feel it. For example, the husband very subtly, moved closer to his wife and put his arm on the back of her chair. Then, she, very subtly, moved her chair away from him rather than toward him. These actions were so subtly, yet naturally, done that it was hardly noticeable. I almost wish I had not noticed, because it made my heart hurt for them. What I saw was a subtle act of affection refused. Denied. But, I had to keep in mind there were two people involved in this interaction. Maybe, she had a broken soul, one so accustomed to going without affection that denying it was as natural as breathing.
Why do I share this story? I share it because I doubt the two of these people went home and talked about this moment. I doubt the two of them recognized this moment at all, because neither one of them seemed to miss a beat. He kept staring into space, and she kept staring at her phone. There was not one tiny signal of confirmation of each other's actions. And, all I could think is, if Matt had moved closer to me and I scooted away, he would've noticed and acknowledged it. If I had moved closer to my husband and he scooted away from me, I would've noticed and acknowledged it. They either noticed and didn't acknowledge it for a variety reasons of their own, or they weren't present enough in the moment to recognize it. And, that little moment of presence could have been a present for their marriage, and if they weren't present in that moment, how many other moments or presents had they missed out on?
How many times had they resisted and not embraced?
Being present in today, in this moment, is extremely difficult to do. It's difficult to accomplish presence in the moment- especially in times of struggle. It's much easier to be present in times of glory. However, being present in the day to day struggle, like getting out of bed when that alarm goes off, is a gift, and it's no coincidence the word for being, for existing, and for now is present. The present is exactly that. A present.
I was at the stoplight making a right turn. When I looked to the left to check for oncoming traffic, the sunrise caught my eye. A smile crept across my lips and almost instantly I let out a sigh of relief as if I had just recognized how lucky I was to be alive (and not only because I survived boot camp).
How often do we remember to be grateful for the breath of life we take each morning when our alarm rudely awakes us from our peaceful slumber? How often do we wish we could ignore the alarm of life and continue to sleep? I take the sound of my alarm for granted on a daily basis-always wishing for more rest, more time in bed, more time to delay the start of the "daily grind." We're all guilty of it.
Instead of resisting I should be embracing.
The sound of the alarm is a signal of a new day God has granted me. The signal of a new day to be a better me. The signal of a new day to be kinder to strangers. The signal of a new day to forgive those who have hurt me. The signal of a new day to show compassion for those in need. The signal of a new day to give the gift of learning to a child. The signal of a new day to give grace to the grocery store clerk who's in a bad mood, because she's barely hanging onto life. The signal of a new day to extend pure love and to love harder. The signal of a new day to allow God to work within me and bring me peace-right here in the midst of this chaotic world.
Instead of resisting I should be embracing.
This breath is a daily present which isn't guaranteed. It's temporary. It's only promised from moment to moment.
About a month ago, our elderly neighbor came knocking on our door. He has lived next door since my husband was born, and he has watched my husband grow into a man. (In case you're wondering, we live in my husband's childhood home). His two younger children are best friends with my husband. There's history in this relationship with our neighbor.
He really likes to talk, and he is very set in his ways and strong in his opinions. He is a Purple Heart Veteran, a conservative, a southern baptist, and a Clemson fan (I try not to hold that one against him). One afternoon, prior to his knock on our door, we were standing on the sidewalk babbling about various subject matters. I had mentioned a desire to visit the local Unitarian Church. His response, "Oh, the crazies? You don't want to do that. You aren't like them." I smiled and forced a chuckle and let him proceed with his opinions about those "liberals" and "crazies" that attend that there Unitarian Church. In his own truth, he had valid reasons to believe what he believed. But, that's it, it was his truth, and who was I to tell him his truths were "wrong" simply because his truths were "wrong" for me? Instead, I listened and took it in and accepted the fact that we had different truths. It didn't impact our relationship, because his truths didn't make him any less kind or loving. We ultimately want the same things - a more peaceful world, more kindness and consideration, more respect, more compassion, more happiness, more love.
So, back to the day he knocked on our door. We had not seen him in awhile. He lives next door part time. The rest of the time he lives in Beaufort. He sat down on our piano bench and caught us up on his life. His health had not been well, and he had faced some grim times. You could tell he was feeling his age and a bit down about it. My husband and I just listened and tried the best we could to give encouragement. He asked my husband if he'd be interested and willing to do some work at his house, and so, they discussed what needed to be done. Then, he started telling us about the baseball game the night before. He lit up. Tim Tebow's minor league baseball team was in Greenville for a few nights playing our local team, the Greenville Drive. He was so happy about seeing Tim Tebow play. He pulled out his phone to show us pictures which led into a conversation about downloading his pictures onto his computer. My husband leaned down beside him at the kitchen table and was helping him navigate the ins and outs of the phone and how to get his pictures downloaded. I was across the table observing the situation. What I observed taught me a little more about compassion, patience, and love.
Here was an elderly man with political views, religious beliefs, and life opinions far from our own, but our love extended far beyond that. We all knew each other as people-as individuals-as humans. We understood each other's hearts. I looked at my husband while he was leaning over helping our neighbor and was so proud to be married to him. Right there in that moment, when he could be doing so many other things, he looked perfectly content helping someone else. His patience, benevolence, and love was pure. He was extending it to our neighbor out of a desire to help him. It was a powerful moment to be standing in. And, I'm thankful I was standing in it-standing in it fully aware of the moment.
I wasn't resisting. I was embracing.
A few weeks ago, Matt and I were in a restaurant. Being the people watcher that I am, I was watching a married couple sitting near us. By their interaction with each other and body language, I sensed tension within their marriage. Most of the time, people don't have to announce the tension in the room for everyone to see it or feel it. For example, the husband very subtly, moved closer to his wife and put his arm on the back of her chair. Then, she, very subtly, moved her chair away from him rather than toward him. These actions were so subtly, yet naturally, done that it was hardly noticeable. I almost wish I had not noticed, because it made my heart hurt for them. What I saw was a subtle act of affection refused. Denied. But, I had to keep in mind there were two people involved in this interaction. Maybe, she had a broken soul, one so accustomed to going without affection that denying it was as natural as breathing.
Why do I share this story? I share it because I doubt the two of these people went home and talked about this moment. I doubt the two of them recognized this moment at all, because neither one of them seemed to miss a beat. He kept staring into space, and she kept staring at her phone. There was not one tiny signal of confirmation of each other's actions. And, all I could think is, if Matt had moved closer to me and I scooted away, he would've noticed and acknowledged it. If I had moved closer to my husband and he scooted away from me, I would've noticed and acknowledged it. They either noticed and didn't acknowledge it for a variety reasons of their own, or they weren't present enough in the moment to recognize it. And, that little moment of presence could have been a present for their marriage, and if they weren't present in that moment, how many other moments or presents had they missed out on?
How many times had they resisted and not embraced?
Being present in today, in this moment, is extremely difficult to do. It's difficult to accomplish presence in the moment- especially in times of struggle. It's much easier to be present in times of glory. However, being present in the day to day struggle, like getting out of bed when that alarm goes off, is a gift, and it's no coincidence the word for being, for existing, and for now is present. The present is exactly that. A present.
Hello, nice blog. Slightly long for me, but I loved the story about your neighbour. There was a real message there I really connected with. Are you aiming for a particular blog length of something? I thought the neighbour story worked well on its own. Matt
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for the feedback! I love getting insight from others, and I'm glad you were able to connect with the neighbor story. I didn't have a particular length in mind. I think I allow all the thoughts/ideas in my head to take over sometimes, and I just get impatient or something and let them all go at once. I appreciate your honesty. I'll definitely pay more attention and consider this more in the future.
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