"Real" Moments

Many times in my life, I have found myself in places that could be best described as “real”. This is not to say that there are not other ways to describe them. Perhaps a better picture of the “real” I’m speaking of is needed.

            “Real” situations would be those times where something happens, and then all falsehood, all fake-ness, all misrepresentations, all of the lies, all of the things we hide, all of that stuff, falls to the floor, and we find ourselves completely transparent.

            In the early summer of 2006, my brother Darrell called me at work, telling me that he and his wife Heather were at the hospital. Heather had gone into early labor, the staff had told them that the baby was in distress, and they weren't being told exactly what to do next. I went to the hospital to be with them. After a night of more questions than answers, waiting, and lots of horrible coffee, in an instant the heartbeat on the monitor stopped.

I left the room, and the baby was delivered. The nurse finally gave me permission to go back in the room. When I opened the door, Darrell was standing at the window, in the bright light of the morning, with a ruffled baby blanket in his arms. His daughter Katie was inside. The room was quiet. It seemed like everything had slowed down. There were no words. This moment was so “real”.

            In June of 2012, I stood in the same delivery room. In my mind all I could think about was all the conversations I would have with Shanon about having babies. We would hear a news story about someone abandoning a baby or horrible things that were done to babies. We would get so mad. Why? Why would God let those people have babies but we couldn't? My palms were sweaty. I thought about Darrell, and how crazy everything was the last time I was here. Everything felt like it was slowing down. I was handed a ruffled baby blanket, and inside was my son, Andrew. My eyes welled up with tears. There were no words. This moment also, was “real”.

            When I was in 10^th Grade, My Dad showed up at lunchtime in the cafeteria. I knew something was up, because my Mom worked there and she was not running the register like normal. The look on Dad’s face was not a good one. I remember knowing something was bad by the look on his face. He pulled me aside and let me know that my Uncle Bill (my Mom’s brother) had passed away in Chicago. I can still remember how the brick wall I was leaning against felt on my shoulder. I had just recently begun to have rapport with him. Dad wanted to take me home, but I told him I wanted to stay at school. I guess it just hadn’t hit me yet. I sat down at my usual table, and I must have had a weird look because everyone was asking me if I was ok. After a few minutes I got up and walked home. On the walk home, it seemed like everything slowed down. Up until this point, I had never fully felt grief. Not close like this. There were no words. As the leaves were blowing off the trees in their various colors, I seemed to walk between them. This walk home was “real”.

            In February of 2001, I stood at an alter and watched a beautiful girl in a white dress walk down the aisle towards me, and take my hand in marriage. I had never thought this day would come for me. Even some of our closest friends at this point said that this was a bad idea, and that we wouldn't last. This had to have been the most nervous I had ever been in my life. But somehow, as we stood there, I looked into her eyes, and I just new everything was going to work out. The hair on the back of my neck kept standing up, and I found my mouth to be remarkably dry. I felt like I was living someone else’s life. They announced us as man and wife, and it seemed like time stopped. I looked at Shanon as she was looking back at me, and I just knew. As we walked back up the aisle together, I couldn't help but stare at her. There were no words.

Everyone experiences moments like these at some point. These moments are more special to me because of the realness. The transparency. The human being at its most bare and raw form. The things that weigh the most can’t be weighed. We all share this experience; of knowing that the moment we are in has more “depth” than meets the eye. More weight than normal. We know that things will not be the same after these moments pass.

We are all spiritual beings. Of this I am sure. Our sensory capabilities go so much farther than the simple sight, taste, smell, touch, and sound. In our moments of grief, joy, excitement, wonder, love, heartbreak, and sorrow, we find that we experience all of these without the five senses. We were designed to experience these things. In these “real” places, God is closer than ever. At least, it seems so. In these “real” places, it is so incredibly easy to see and feel the hand of God in them.

We are all connected on some spiritual level. We all feel tragedy. All of us at our deepest levels long for truth and justice. We are made to experience God. We were made to experience Him on so many different levels. The more real and transparent we become, the more we are able to experience God and all he has for us.

Get “real” with God.