Do you ever have those purely perfect moments?
Each of these moments have happened over the past couple of months for me, and despite the circumstances—grandmother in poor health, Grant studying intensely for the GMAT, people not making room for us in their lives, continually searching for a new place to live as we prepare to move out of our apartment—they have provided me with a little peace and a lot of perspective. Most days, things aren’t all good and they certainly aren’t all bad, just busy and tiresome—but these moments bring me back to the love story into which my Love has called me… and it’s perfect.
Like when you’re driving in your car on the first day of spring—windows down, sunroof open, and the heat’s on (because it’s not really warm enough yet). Your favorite song is on the radio and you singing loudly, hair flowing wildly—you don’t care. It’s the kind of freedom that brings back the vitality of youthfulness and sheer joy; the kind of rare liberation that takes you to a time and place where you had less responsibility, fewer obligations, and a more open calendar—a simpler time that you can only taste again for a moment… and it’s perfect.
Like when you wake up on Christmas morning and you look outside and see—much to your surprise—thick tufts of snow coming down, covering a winter wonderland. White snow blankets everything in sight, making it clean and pure… and it’s perfect.
Like when you take the first sip of coffee of the morning, sitting out on your back porch with a blanket and a good book, ready to wrap yourself in the warmth of the still quiet and crisp pages. You can escape for just a moment… and it’s perfect.
Like enjoying a really great date, and after dinner, drinks, and easy conversation for hours, it starts to sprinkle. As you dash out towards the car he grabs you and reminds you that he can still surprise you. He sweeps you up in a kiss in the rain. The world stops for a minute… and it’s perfect.
Like when you’re determined to hike a mountain to watch the sunrise and you step out into the early-morning grey, anticipating nothing more than a little exercise. As you climb, you realize that God is painting a picture just for you. And with every minute and each step His brush creates a new color—each one more stunning than the last. And as you reach the summit, breathless, the sun bursts forth in all its radiance. His love is relentless and overwhelming… and it’s perfect.
Like when you realize that you two have created an elegant dance out of your morning ritual—like two planets in orbit that move in relation to one another, pulled ever close by patterns and habit. The comfortable ease that exists between you makes even the most basic of things special. And as you brush your hair, and he his teeth, the loveliness of it washes over you and you realize in that moment what love looks like … and it’s perfect.
I think moments like these, however few and far between—and illusive—can give us enough perspective to continue on in the day-to-day. I think they give us peace and contentment and joy even in the midst of joyless circumstances. I think they provide our souls with a little piece of heaven and our minds with a respite long enough for a reprieve. I think they give us the ability to breathe deeply, if but only for a moment, savoring the present, regardless of the past and (especially) the future.
I will accept these little moments as gifts and treasure them away in my heart (Luke 2:19; 51b).
What are some of your perfect moments?
Like when you wake up early one morning in Florence, Italy and you grab breakfast for two – waffles with powdered sugar and nutella. Then you sit right outside the Duomo and people watch for a good 30 minutes just taking in the experience that is traveling abroad all while thanking God that He has given us this opportunity.