Moments

Every once in a while a moment happens. It's a smell, a place, a shirt, a song. Things that were become as real as the things that are, and you are drawn into them, or perhaps overtaken by them. Inside these fleeting moments we are reminded of where we have been, the obstacles we have overcome, and the way things used to be. I have come to know these moments as sacred. Nearly all of the events of my life are in the past, so when the present calls out to the depths of my soul and draws forth these memories, I consider it very significant. The best we can do at any given time is live out of all that we hold true within. And what we have within is the truth of what we have lived, the people we have known, the places we used to go. These sacred moments beg us to listen to our lives; they are trying to remind us of our story.

A moment happened to me not long ago. Flooded with sights, smells, and feel of things that I used to know, I became still, silent. Some moments bring hope and strength. Mine was the other kind, the ones that are a brief personal funeral for what was and never can be again. It was a time when things were better. That is not to say that things have been worse from that point on, but that they will not be the same. I was overtaken by the faces of people I will never see again, though they did not say goodbye, by the images of places where I used to be known, by the unmistakable feeling that I am older now and that "how it used to be" will forever remain in these moments, and in these moments alone. As sad as these things can be, I still consider them sacred. To lose sight of that is to lose sight of me, my story, and my future. We must lean into the changes, embrace the tragic gap between ending and beginning again, and listen intently to the echoes of our souls.