For what moment am I most grateful today?
For what moment am I least grateful?
It's a way to help identify moments of connection -- moments when I feel most alive -- more transparent to God and more loving toward other people. It's also a way to identify disconnection, depletion and a sense of being blocked to the presence of God, others or myself. It's a way to notice God in the tiny details -- and large moments -- of life. When patterns begin to emerge, that's when I can really start to gain insight and (hopefully) change, deepen and grow.
I very recently started doing the examen with specific people or events in mind -- my three children, my husband, moments in ministry.
Today I played "Restaurant" for nearly an hour with my five year old. He was clad in a red robe and red stretchy gloves -- a chef that cooked at such high speeds, he looked like a cloud of red dust. I was ordering amazing delicacies -- most of them containing special ingredients such as chocolate chips, cream and cherries on top.
As I sit and hold that moment . . . I smile. It was a time of completely putting all tasks and to-do's aside -- and completely focusing on my son. He let me in on some delicious secrets (like who he's going to marry) and created a new identity as a dad, husband and "best chef in the world." It was a pure moment. A moment of sharing secrets . . . of sharing life.
Today my two year old ran into my legs, threw his arms around me and shouted "Mommy! Mommy!" after missing me for two hours. A surprise gift of love -- a gift of joy.
My little baby girl broke out into whole body laughter when I looked at her and repeated some word I can't even remember now.
These moments -- suspended in time -- all connected because I was so real and present and in the moment. All connected because they are gifts. A pattern emerges day after day . . . my grateful moments are always when I'm present and connected and in the moment with my children.
I should do it more often.
Another pattern has become glaringly obvious . . . my least grateful moment always involves my desk. It is so full and cluttered and screaming with important tasks I'm supposed to be doing that it's difficult to think. So my question is: what does this mean? What am I supposed to change or do or tweak so that this desk doesn't continue to drain life from me?
I'll continue to wrestle . . . and pray . . . and listen . . .
And maybe throw on some red stretchy gloves and cook up a storm.
