The present

I’m sitting at Leigh’s desk typing away on the computer this morning. The wind is rushing through the leaves of the trees outside in quick and random bursts. The sky is still dark and gray. I would have thought after the constant downpour that we have had over the last 24 hours that the sky would have dried itself out by now. It is threatening to rain more. In-between the silences and rushing of the leaves I can hear Leigh’s deep slow breaths as she is wrapped up tight in the blankets snoozing.

I love quiet moments like this where things are still and almost seem like they are paused. The world is holding its breath and I get to look around slowly and quietly and just touch the moment with my hand.

This moment contrasts well with the streets of Spanish Town yesterday. More good moments yesterday though moments of a different kind.

The streets were a sea of hot pinks, bright yellows, purples, greens, and flamingos.  The colors each made brighter by the rain water that continually fell and coated everything. Floats slowly made their way around the twisted streets of the oldest neighborhood in Baton Rouge. Rain dripping down arms, and faces as people danced, sang and shouted. It almost felt like there was a string of beads falling to match each and every raindrop. Not slow, not paused like things are right now, but rather in fast-forward.

One of the greatest lessons that I realize I have learned is to be in the present. One of the greatest things I gave up when suffering my faith crisis was my fear of the future. In losing that fear and focus on the future I have gained the moment. I have gained “the right now”.