I think it’s called “commiserating”
I was in the stands along with other long-suffering parents. We were all there for a T-Ball game with kids just a little young for Little League. It’s a chance for them to get out, run around, and get dirty. But for the parents, you know the drill. It’s kind of like baseball with four bases and nine players on a team. But that’s where the similarity ends. The ball is a whiffle, and it’s stroked off a Tee. No one ever gets out. The first team to 15 … or is it 30, wins? These games seem like they never end.
But in the meantime, the kids are having a blast, and that’s what’s most important—or so we say to each other.
The parents bond over their time, their shared suffering. At the end of the game everyone smiles, the kids get popsicles and compare grass burns.
But there was one game, and I missed the moment. My son was at bat, and I was talking to a friend about a real baseball game, work, or the weather. I don’t remember, but I wasn’t interested in this “sport”. My son’s at-bat and subsequent mad dash to first base caused much cheering from his teammates. But all that mattered was what I thought. He glanced up in the stands to catch my face, my cheering. And I had missed the whole achievement because I wasn’t paying attention.
Minutes with meaning
Life is a total time continuum. The 70 years or so that I’ll live to make up the sum of my days. But what marks life as important are just a few moments in time: a first kiss, the first glance at an ocean overlook, a high school diploma, a baby’s first breath, and a daughter at the end of the aisle. We can all remember those singular seconds that changed our lives and directed our future.
There are other moments, singular minutes, that should have meant something, but they passed me by because I was busy, distracted, or disinterested. By missing the moment, I missed the opportunity.
And God moves in my life – giving me refreshment, or wisdom, or encouragement. But I often miss the moment of His interaction because I am too concerned over my bruised and bloody past, or too worried about my uncertain future. I miss the present blessing by missing the moment.
When Jesus wept over Jerusalem,he was sad because they missed the opportunity to turn and embrace their King, the moment of his appearance. Their Saviour visited them, but they did not know it. He was weeping over the tragedy of a lost opportunity.
Does He weep over me, because I’ve missed the moments of His blessing? Is He sad because I won’t let go and let Him bless me?
Am I missing the moment?
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