Sunday, March 20, 2011

When Life is Like a Movie




Coming home Thursday night after a fairly mild Saint Patrick's day bar shift, I had a made-for-t.v. (or movie) type moment. I was heading up the off-ramp at our Hampden exit and at this point of the freeway, the light rail perfectly parallels vehicles getting off the freeway. Sometimes, like this time at night, you will see the light rail connecting rod flash brightly against a connecting cable intersection and it sparks quite brilliantly almost like a firework or maybe even lightning...at least out of the corner of your eye-your periphery. This is what happened Thursday night and it caused me to look over and see that not only was I traveling at the same speed as the ongoing ligh trail but I was level with it and could see right in to the cabin with all the sleepy-eyed Saint Paty's day revelers; it was a moment. It was a brief and relatively inconsequential moment but a significant one nonetheless.


I've been telling random people for sometime now of a growing sentiment of mine that I believe that I sometimes think in the form of movies; I get movie nostalgia almost where in a moment of life I will think about a particular movie and even a specific scene and I will recall it with pretty great fondness and warmth. I don't know, I suppose that's just the impression that movies have made on my psyche, but this was one of those moments with the only exception that this time I did not recall a specific movie or movie moment; instead this time the scene was the moment-it was unraveling before my eyes. And I feel that sometimes that's what life can be: a fond, nostalgic possibly romantic moment if we just stop for a second; if we wait and listen and lean in and embrace that moment as if it were our last it can become something kind of special.

This last weekend was a bit of all this with family in town, we took the time to fellowship, to eat and walk and enjoy each other and it was truly blessed. It was a gift, it was a picture and for that I am very very grateful.

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