A Moment
My life’s littered with bad moments. Sometimes so many I can’t see through the grime.
Some mornings I wake up so sad and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s my dreams. How could I really know the horrors my subconscious puts me through? After all, my conscious thoughts torture me plenty during my day.
This doesn’t mean I never look for the sun. It also doesn’t mean I don’t have those occasions where I’m blinded by light. When those shining moments happen... I still. And every time, my actions remind me of my favorite passage from the Bible. “Be still and know that I am God.”
The comfort is in the simplicity, and the greatest impact always happens in the tinniest moments. Those seconds we could let pass us by if we’re not open to them. I’m not talking about finding religion. I’m talking about accepting a gentle voice that stills your inner storm with a whisper, “It will be okay. All manner of things will be okay.”
When I think of sadness and despair, I think of those incapable of finding these moments in their days. I think of those unable to treasure even the smallest beat of complete pleasure in life.
Last night I sat on my couch, the TV on, my husband working in the kitchen. My son was talking to him, asking questions in the way a seven-year-old will do. My husband pointed out the new outlets in the wall saying, “Now Mama will have plug-ins all around her counters.”
It was a simple conversation, and one that shouldn’t have mattered at all during my day. But it did. It caught me off guard. It made me smile. It made me think, “I am loved and I am loved well.”
Maybe it wasn’t a dozen roses or a diamond necklace, which I wouldn’t like that much anyway. Maybe he didn’t plan a big night. What he did do was use his hands and his mind and his talent to pull a simple smile from me. A big gesture for a small reward.
I felt safe. And in the moment of that thought, a soft whisper brushed against my cheek, “Be still and know that all manner of things will be all right.”
I’ve actually found this moment in the way the wind lifted the petals of a daisy. When I was around ten, I found the moment while watching the lavender leaves fall from a white ash one October. Whenever it happens, no matter the reason, my mind freezes the moment. A quiet memory that’s just for me.
Some mornings I wake up so sad and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s my dreams. How could I really know the horrors my subconscious puts me through? After all, my conscious thoughts torture me plenty during my day.
This doesn’t mean I never look for the sun. It also doesn’t mean I don’t have those occasions where I’m blinded by light. When those shining moments happen... I still. And every time, my actions remind me of my favorite passage from the Bible. “Be still and know that I am God.”
The comfort is in the simplicity, and the greatest impact always happens in the tinniest moments. Those seconds we could let pass us by if we’re not open to them. I’m not talking about finding religion. I’m talking about accepting a gentle voice that stills your inner storm with a whisper, “It will be okay. All manner of things will be okay.”
When I think of sadness and despair, I think of those incapable of finding these moments in their days. I think of those unable to treasure even the smallest beat of complete pleasure in life.
Last night I sat on my couch, the TV on, my husband working in the kitchen. My son was talking to him, asking questions in the way a seven-year-old will do. My husband pointed out the new outlets in the wall saying, “Now Mama will have plug-ins all around her counters.”
It was a simple conversation, and one that shouldn’t have mattered at all during my day. But it did. It caught me off guard. It made me smile. It made me think, “I am loved and I am loved well.”
Maybe it wasn’t a dozen roses or a diamond necklace, which I wouldn’t like that much anyway. Maybe he didn’t plan a big night. What he did do was use his hands and his mind and his talent to pull a simple smile from me. A big gesture for a small reward.
I felt safe. And in the moment of that thought, a soft whisper brushed against my cheek, “Be still and know that all manner of things will be all right.”
I’ve actually found this moment in the way the wind lifted the petals of a daisy. When I was around ten, I found the moment while watching the lavender leaves fall from a white ash one October. Whenever it happens, no matter the reason, my mind freezes the moment. A quiet memory that’s just for me.