Anyone watch the Democratic Convention last night when Bill Clinton spoke and Joe Biden accepted the Vice Presidential nomination? No...I am not going to get political on you here, largely because like most arguments dealing with theological "truth," the idea of arguing a point in politics is a productive as the proverbial "one oar rowboat." The older I get the more taken I am with the theatrics involved in all we do and portray and express as we strive to have people beleive in what we are trying to...let's call it what it is...sell other people. Election years are quintessential illustrations of this on steroids. But, now to my point for this post.
There was a moment last night that did connect with me more than I had suspected, in a very personal manner and one that carried me back in my story. After Biden made his ascceptance speech, his family spilled onto the stage to stand by his side. Nice theater: all the generations surrounding their father, hero, brother, son, friend and hope-to-be-Vice President of hte United States. Good staging to convey family values, generational integrity and the like. But that's not what got me. It was a moment after Barack Obama suprised the gathering by taking hte stage to congratulate his running mate...and the camera locked onto Michelle Obama, standing in the audience watching the scene. The expression on her face was unmistakable, transparent, unscripted, and genuine (all descriptor the antithesis of any political event). She was watching this ordinary man in the midst of an extraordinary life; a manefestation of his own personal calling. Maybe she was remembering when they met in a law office many years ago. Maybe she was thinking about how odd it was to see how their lives had intertwined with a common vision: for love, life, family, social justice, our country and our world. Her eyes were noticebly tearing up. Her head was slightly titled in that way it does when see something so precious, cherished, humbling....
I have similar feelings through these handful of days we are sharing about my story. With each segment I am there, again, experiencing the same moment...differently. More hours, days, miles, dialogue and finally grace. I am able to look at Valerie in the distance and think about how the threads of our lives have unraveled and have woven back together in a different pattern. Still precious. Still amazing. Not better or worse. Different. My head tilts. My eyes fill.
Win, lose or draw...when the ballots of our lives and relationships are cast, I hope we never forget the moments, like these, that remind us it was never a contest to begin with.
Write on.
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2 comments:
I experienced the same, but the greatest moment followed the next evening when Barak spoke. I was completely mezmorized by this "simple" man. I hungered for his every word, not wanting the speech to ever end. I could find no words, only tears. These were tears of joy, fear, hope and the belief that a broken world can be fixed.
ILENEB:
Thanks for your heart and insight. Sometimes I have to remind myself that the drops of rain are the beginning signs that will help close the open wounds of the dry soil. Let it rain.
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