Absent (adj.)-not present, missing.

At 8:00 on Wednesday morning I was doing all of the following:

1. Listening to a podcast.

2. Running an errand.

3. Being late for work.

4. Mentally managing future events that may, or may not, actually happen.

5. Operating a moving vehicle.

What I was not doing, giving my full attention to anything, being present in the moment, being present in my life.

I pulled up at the Post Office, grabbed my package and lurched toward the door. And then as I reached for the door I saw it. A tiny little moth nestled between the frame and the glass, bright pink and yellow, its body velvety looking, covered in tiny feathers, bright pink antennae on its head. It was perfectly still. I stopped in my tracks and beheld this creature so marvelous that it could only have sprung from a Divine mind, both creative and playful. I came in hot on two wheels right into the moment just in time for a brush with the “completely other” in the words of Karl Barth. For a moment I was exactly where my feet were and beheld a tiny wonder. I walked away smiling.

And I almost missed it. And I wonder about all the other moments my life I have missed, the “God winks” I have missed because I am “forever elsewhere”. In the past, in the future, but in the present moment, absent.

This isn’t the part where I share the great revelation I had so that this will never happen again. This is the part where I realize that I don’t even remember what I was listening to, or what future event I was worried about, much less whether it actually happened. That the errand got run, that I made it to work eventually, and that I should really try to pay attention when I’m driving a car. And that I will only get so many days, so many moments, so many marvels. I don’t want to ever miss another chance to be blown away by wonder, or even just the sweetness of the everyday. I just want to remember to be present, so if God shows up I’m paying attention.