In the Moment

I was just at our district school meeting. One of the recurring themes of the meeting was building relationships, and an incident from a number of years ago came to my mind. I almost decided to wait until Christmas to share this, but then decided that it is applicable any time, so here it is.

Rachel was a little girl with a big heart. She loved everyone she met. And she especially loved to give gifts. The morning of the Christmas party she showed up in my classroom slightly before the rest of the children. She nearly bounced up to my desk. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “I brought you something!” she said.

I smiled at her. “Why, thank you, Rachel. You can put it over there by the other gifts,” I responded.

“Oh, Miss Schmidt,” she said, “I wanted you to open it now.”

“No, you’ll have to wait until I open the others,” I answered.

“But it’s just little,” Rachel pled, disappointment beginning to settle over her face, “it’s not from the class or anything. It’s just from me.”

But I stuck to my policy. Gifts were to be opened all at once. I didn’t want to deal with random requests to open gifts all morning. It was easier to deal with them all at once.

At last, the gift-opening ceremony arrived. The children went first, unwrapping bows and paper and doing a good job of remembering to say thank you. And then it was my turn.

I don’t remember what gift I received that year from my class. I don’t even remember exactly what was in Rachel’s small bag. I do recall that it was, as she said, a little gift. It was child’s gift, given from the heart. I remember opening the package and looking around for Rachel in time to see her slip to the back of the crowd, embarrassed of her little gift amongst the bigger ones on my desk. All the joy was gone from her face.

That image has haunted me for years—a little girl with a big heart, embarrassed and disappointed because a grown-up she loved hadn’t tuned in to what she was trying to say. I, in my ignorance and policies, had ruined what should have been a beautiful chance at connection. I didn’t take the opportunity to live the moment with her and missed out on a blessing.

 I’ve tried in the years since to not miss those moments. Those moments don’t just come from students—they come from anyone you wish to build a relationship with.

Those moments are the ones you choose to stop and listen to a child’s version of a bad day and take the time to remember what it’s like from his perspective. They are the moments you share with a friend who is struggling with singlehood or infertility, not giving advice, but sitting together and helping them bear the pain. They are the moments we rejoice over a friend’s good news, even though it reminds us of our own disappointments. They are the moments we drop our own judgements and opinions, pause to reflect, and be in the moment with someone we love.

Romans 12:15 tells us to “Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.” To effectively live this verse, we must lean into love and learn to take in the moment someone else is living. I’m not suggesting that we coddle someone going through a difficult journey and enable feelings of self-pity. I’m only reminding myself that it’s important not to belittle what someone else is going through.

“Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.” (Philippians 2:4). I don’t think it’s taking this verse out of context to say that here we are reminded that a Heavenly Love is invested in what others are facing, whether sorrows or joys.

Some of us are naturally more of a logical mind. Others react to situations more emotionally. I believe that living in the moment with someone else means reaching across these boundaries and seeking understanding. It will probably take you out of your comfort zone—maybe you’re not from a family that cries, and you don’t know exactly what to do. Maybe entering enthusiastic, friendly debates is new territory.

For me, of course, I get the most practice with my pupils. Sometimes that type of understanding means I am called upon to learn more about snakes than I ever wanted to know when I have a student that is fascinated with them. Sometimes it means going out after dark to hunt insects with a child who is captivated by the glowing eyes of spiders. Occasionally, it means going easy on a student who struggles to focus on math after their pet has been run over on the road.

And sometimes it means opening a little gift at a Christmas party, sharing a moment of joy.

Wishing you a beautiful week spent living in the moment with those you love!